


It's Gonna Get Weird

by 48eyesand32teeth1sharptongue



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Angst on Steroids, Bill's gonna catch feelings and it's going to end well for no one, Body Horror, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dipper is 25, Dipper is in over his head, Don't copy to another site, Eldritch Monsters, Horror, Ignore the chapter count, Other, Possession, Somnophilia, Spoilers, Stockholm Syndrome, Tentacles, Torture, Trans Dipper Pines, Triangle Bill Cipher, WIP, darker au sequel, i edit things at random, my audience is me at 2 am, probably hurt very little comfort, so if you see something that don't make sense, that's why, this is not a happy fic guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 08:15:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 32,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23848039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/48eyesand32teeth1sharptongue/pseuds/48eyesand32teeth1sharptongue
Summary: Dipper tries to rescue his sister after she disappeared at age 13.It does not go as planned.
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines, past one sided BillFord
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	1. This Is Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not posting individual trigger warnings per chapter anymore, just know there will be disturbing and violent content.
> 
> Also you see any weird looking stray A things, it's from the re-uploading not going through right and I will fix it later.
> 
> Fic title from a song that didn't make it into the show but was storyboarded.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title a song from Nightmare Before Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> personal headcanon for Dipper is he looks kinda like Will Graham but younger

Dipper comes to in a small room. On a couch.

Which feels like it is made of human skin. It blinks at him, and he leaps up, trips, and falls to the floor.

This shouldn't be happening. Bill was gone... And he shouldn't have any more power over Dipper's dreams. (And why the dreams aren't washed out in black and white, instead in vivid technicolor, Dipper doesn't want to know. He does, but he can't worry about it-)

"Hey, Pine Tree. Have a drink. Or several. You look like you could use 'em."

Bill Cipher holds out something Dipper wouldn't try even if held above a boiling pit of lava. Dipper smashes the glass and holds it up at the demon like a knife, for whatever much good that'll do.

Bill twists his arm and turns the glass to a pile of teeth, which Dipper lets clatter to the floor.

"Or not." Bill chuckles and... empties his own glass with his eye, before crossing his arms and spinning. "Wow. You really are stupid. Here I am, rolling out the red carpet, giving you the proverbial olive branch, and all you've got is that dumb look on your face. Can't even take a friendly conversation and say, Hi Bill, long time no... SEE." Bill's voice booms as he appears on the other side of Dipper's shoulder, larger and looming, red eye blinking until the demonic triangle's expression smooths over and he shrinks back down again, patting Dipper's hat. "Want me to give you another go? Or was I not the deal-making miracle polygon you were lookin' for?"

"Why would I ever trust you again, after everything you did?" Dipper snarls, shaking his grip and backing away. There isn't much place to go.

"Wow. I'm feeling a bit underappreciated, kid. But before we wind back the clocks and make all that water under the bridge, might I remind you that you don't have a lot of time. Sixer, Stanley, and Shooting Star aren't getting any younger. Not like you're doing so hot, either."

Dipper tries to ignore that bit, pushing it down. Whatever happened before he got here can wait. Bill is more dangerous. Bill is always a threat.

Bill lights up like a neon sign at a gas station and taps out a few more chords on the piano he's been sitting on, not caring about the jarring two-tone noise breaking Dipper from his own internal breakdown. "But if you don't want my help, you can let them, what's the human word... Oh yeah. Die. Slowly. Painfully. That's it. That's the word."

"What... No. No, we're not doing this. I'm not listening, and I'm not playing your games."

"Oh, but I'm not playing. I just want to make a deal. And you know I take those very seriously. You got something I want. I got something you need. You know how it goes."

A phantom limb slides down Dipper's spine, makes him shiver and hug himself tighter.

_If you don't look hard enough, he's not there, he's not toying with you, he's not-_

"And why should I believe anything you say?" Dipper whispers. Hunched and on his knees and not finding any new breakthroughs.

Bill's eye narrows into a slit before he waves him off.

"Fine. Don't. That's your prerogative. But maybe you aren't asking the right questions. Maybe you should be asking, oh, I don't know... Gee, Bill, what do you need from me? Or wait, I know. You're gonna ask me-"

Dipper, not willing to play along, and already one step ahead of him, says in unison, "How are you still alive?"

Bill blinks, nodding, and sidles up, puts an arm around Dipper's shoulders, forcing him in close when he pulls a bit too hard. "See? I know things. Especially things about you, and your dumb human brain... Just like I know all about what keeps you up at night and screaming or the way your flesh settles under that soft pink skin when you scratch at it too much. But to answer your question: what makes you think you ever killed me? Hmm?" Bill claps his hands together and rubs it in. "What, good ol' Stanley says I disappeared into a pile of goo in his mind and boom! Presto! Big Bad Bill's gone for good. Not like I'm an all-powerful entity or anything. Come on, Pine Tree. Even I know you're smarter than that."

"What did you do to them?" Dipper grounds out. He's dizzy and it hurts to breathe and it shouldn't be this stifling, dreams usually aren't like walking through molasses...

"I'm wounded. Who says I had anything to do with their unfortunate circumstances? Just because I might have an inkling of what happened..."

"Bill, I swear-"

"Ooh, you're making a face." Bill crosses his arms and gives a half-hearted withering glare before rolling his eye. "What do you even have to threaten me with, kid?"

"I'll find something." Dipper mutters under his breath, eyeing a way out. The whole pyramid is sealed. No holes. Not even an intense amount of focus is getting this dream to budge, and that rankles.

Bill continues talking, like they have all the time in the world.

Dipper closes his eyes and tries to regulate his breathing.

"Okay, fine. You're stubborn. I get it. But you can't afford not to hear me out. And besides, it's not like I need them. I just need you. So let's help each other." Dipper eyes fly open as Bill pokes his chest, tip of the triangle flopping over as he looms a bit higher. "It'll be fun. Like old times. Maybe even more fun, now that you aren't as much of a snot-nosed brat-"

"You're rusty and out of practice, if you think I'm just going to listen to you and what, exactly? You get what you want, no questions, when I know exactly what you are-"

Bill mock-swoons, putting a hand to his nonexistent forehead.

"Ooooh. You got me. But, uh, what else do you have as an option? You've been avoiding Gravity Falls for eleven years. I've been watching you." Bill ticks down his non-existent fingers, blinking double time. "You've got no other leads, you've got no other ideas. And even if I wasn't such a pal, fact is, you came back. And I know desperate when I see it. So. Pine Tree. Your move. But I promise, I can give you answers."

Dipper stares at his feet, keeping his hands tightly balled into fists behind his back, and keeps checking the floor for a clue or secret door or something-

"At what price?" He murmurs. Not wanting to look into the eye of the thing sweet-talking him like it's been a day and not over a decade since he last tried to pull this con. Not wanting to see the fuzziness behind his eyelids and for the pounding, blinding headache of looking through the thing he really is when you try to comprehend something not-really-two-or-three dimensional for too long.

"One I'm sure you'll be willing to pay premium, once you find out what happened."

"You don't know everything." Dipper spits, glaring up at him.

Bill puts his hands on his hips.

"I sure know more than you-"

"Okay. Let's say I believe you. Let's say I think you know what happened, and you can help me get them back. What's stopping you from trying to kill us and grind us into molecules, again?"

"Now ain't that the real question. I knew there's a reason I liked you the best. So, here's the thing, kid. It's all part of the deal. You play your cards face-up, I don't hurt them, and you give me what I need. That's gotta count for something, right?"

"Hard pass."

"How about you sleep on it?" Bill wheedles, and starts circling around Dipper, tighter and tighter. "Come on, Pine Tree. I can help you. I can bring them back safe and sound. No screaming. No pain. No long term brain damage. No matter how amusing the latter options would be..." Bill trails off, then lights up again, a flat construct of a light-bulb going off over his head.

"And I mean, there's always option two. I could just keep you here forever. You and me. Two of a kind. You. Never waking up. That's sure something I can do."

"You're lying."

"Don't need to. Come on. Rack those brains. What were you doing before you got here, hmm?"

_Freeway. Lights. Pain-_

"Yep. Car crash. Comas sure are something. Maybe you shouldn't have fallen asleep at the wheel and took a tumble into a tree. See, that... That is on you, kid. You came back to the scene of the crime. But have no fear. You made it across town lines. Now you're all mine, whether you like it or not. And I really did hit the jackpot. Hey. Buck up. You won't ever be lonely again, and I get to talk to my favorite ghost forever. No need to look all offended. It won't be all bad. We got five dimensional chess, flaming heads, dying stars, fractal rainbows, and a queen bed, which, I will say is miles more comfortable than that ratty old thing-"

Dipper starts to panic a little, and keeps pacing in shorter circles, hands clasped over his ears, trying to drown Bill out. It doesn't work, because his voice seeps through anyway, not quite noise so much as everywhere at once directly beamed into Dipper's head, but it's the thought that counts...

"Okay. Okay. I... I'm really... I'm-"

Bill looks at his non-existent cuticles, and taps his foot. "Not in a hospital. On the side of a road. Bleeding out. Concussed. Choking on your own spit." Then he floats back over, one hand snaking over and dragging Dipper closer, settling over the small of his back. "Face it. Nobody's coming to find you, Pine Tree. You're gonna die alone. It's just you and me. Forever. And if you don't get yourself outta this one alive, you can say goodbye to the other troublemakers, too. Wouldn't that be a shame... They get to suffer, forever, and you'll fade out, precious little mind trapped in this bubble with nowhere else to go-"

"Okay. Let's say you're right. Let's say I'm out of options."

"You are. But go on. I'm listening."

"Let's say I want to bring back Mabel and Grunkle Stan and Ford and not be dead on the side of the road, with no apocalypse or harm done to anyone in Gravity Falls or the earth, all in one. If you can do that, if I give you what you want... What's in it for you? Because I'm not letting you break the world again-"

"Oh, Pine Tree. You really expect the worst. But I've grown. I don't do all those pranks any more. That's old school. No, see, I should really thank you for trapping me without meaning to again. I really should. Eleven years, for me, while a blink of an eye, gave me some time to step back. Take a breather. Smell the roses. And I've had time to think about what's really worth it. My real priorities. No. Now that you're back, all I want is to spend some time with my favorite puppet. Is that so wrong, to want to reconnect with an old friend?"

 _Yes_. Dipper thinks. And he knows, more than anything, he's going to regret this.

But what other choice does he have?

He wants to say Bill is lying. But part of him... Part of him, the part that's in pain, the part that isn't quite right, the part that feels farther away by the second-

Knows that if nothing else, he's dying. And he can't leave his family behind, defenseless, without him ever getting them home safe.

Dipper, grudgingly, with all the knowledge of knowing better but with his back against the wall not knowing what to do, answers, "Fine. Let's make a deal. But I swear, if you try anything-"

"A new life and their safety in exchange for you, coming right up! Don't worry. We can work on all the delicious fine print as we go."

The hair on the back of Dipper's neck rises as Bill blinks and appears behind him and then sits him down on the couch, hands clasped in Dipper's before he can say another word, shaking so fast like he'd rather Dipper's arms fell right off. The blue flames don't hurt, but the feeling does make Dipper feel more solid, more like he's being sucked in and he reflexively worries about floating off into the dream and never feeling real again, just like the first time-

Only the disconnect never comes.

Bill laughs. Mechanical. Cut short in that kind of over-indulgent, too-fixated way.

One eye trained solely on him.

If he had a mouth, Dipper can tell he would be smiling like a used car salesman, sleazier than Bud Gleeful or even Stan in the old days once he found himself enamored by the right mark.

"This is why you're my favorite."

\--

Dipper wakes up, heaving, choking-

Coppery tasting grass mushed in his face, one leg broken, right side bleeding, his head pounding and bloody, too. Based on distant outline of the half spider-webbed, half demolished glass of his windshield, he'd be thrown through his beat up car, seat belt broken and everything.

Bill flickers in front of him, holding his sides.

"Ha! You look like you're in total agony. Wait. I'm sorry. Ahem. I mean..."

Bill waves a hand.

Heals Dipper's broken lungs that kept hacking up blood before he drowns in his own fluids, and every other injury that came with it.

"That's better, right? I mean it, Pine Tree. I need feedback. I'm never really sure if I've rearranged your insides quite right, usually I'm shuffling them the other way..."

Dipper promptly climbs on his knees and throws up, shaking and shivering and not sure where to start to fix any of this.

Or how making a deal means Bill gets control over the actual material building blocks of reality again.


	2. Hidden in the Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title a song by Tally Hall.

"Is that a yes, Bill, my internal organs are working a-okay..."

"Just give me a second," Dipper gasps, hugging his knees. Then he wobbles to his feet, clutching the tree trunk next to him like it's the only lifeline he has before he's back down again.

Bill swings upside-down on the tree branch above him.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say I got your nervous and digestive system right. You know, you could offer a, thanks, Bill, I appreciate having all my vital-"

"Shut. Up."

"Gee, Pine Tree. You are not a morning person, are you?"

Dipper staggers upright, finally gaining his footing, and leaves the wreck where it is. The whole thing is totaled, and on fire, and as much as he'd love to salvage a water bottle or map or anything useful, really, it's not worth risking the whole thing almost sending him to an early grave again.

Thank goodness he'd never kicked the habit of keeping his pocket knife in his shoe, compass around his neck, and a flashlight in his pocket.

Dipper makes sure he can move right, stretches, checks for any other lacerations and burns, and tries to ignore the nausea in his gut before Bill appears in a flash right in front of him.

"Okay. It's been a good five minutes of you sullenly ignoring me and making sure you can touch your toes or whatever. So now that you are done throwing your existential tantrum, can we get the show on the road?" Bill says, poking the half-exposed strip of skin where Dipper's ankle and sock meet with his cane.

Dipper lurches away, and glances at his watch. It blinks 4:03 am.

Bill snaps, forcing Dipper's gaze back up to find his no-longer-burning backpack fully manifested, already swinging around Bill's fingers, until he drops it clumsily, on purpose.

Dipper dodges so it lands at his feet and not directly on his face, then slings it over his shoulder.

"You're the one who knows where we have to go-"

"Best you head back to home base first. Get you all cleaned up and hydrated. Besides, there's some gear Sixer left behind that we're gonna need to pull this off."

Dipper can't argue with that, as much as he'd otherwise like to.

He checks his bearings and the direction he needs to take to make his way back this far out of town, turns on his heels, and starts trekking off without a word, still tasting dried blood on his lips and readjusting his hat to shake the shards of glass sticking out.

He might be suffering Bill's whims and moods, but he certainty isn't going to engage any more if he can help it.

It takes an innumerable amount of tripping over hard-to-see tree branches, one bloodied, skinned kneecap, some grumbled cursing, and ten minutes of otherwise stony silence before Bill decides that hiking back the long way isn't on the itinerary.

"Yeah, this is taking way too long. Brace yourself, kid." Bill scoops a struggling, flailing Dipper up by his midsection and adds, "Keep all hands and feet inside the vehicle."

Then he snaps, and there is heat and light and cold and suddenly Dipper is collapsing on a dusty, too-small mattress in an attic that was once very familiar. Dipper rolls off his stomach immediately, and stops himself from falling off the bed, although his legs jut out and dangle far enough out even when he draws his knees in.

Bill pretends to blow steam from a gun, eyelid closing lazily, his eyelashes fluttering the way they do when he chuckles.

"Still got it!" He whoops, then zooms around the room.

Dipper takes out his notes, head bowed, and stays scrunched into as tiny a ball as he can make himself, to stop Bill from making any more unwanted contact. If Bill can get inside the shack now, then all the protective warding left from the old days aren't cutting it, and he needs a new plan to try and get him to not take his body for a joyride without any compunctions or brakes whatsoever.

Bill skids to a stop and floats down lightly, one hand patting Dipper's shoulder before Dipper flinches and wrenches away.

"Can we just get this over with-" Dipper's glad his voice doesn't break, low and worn out as it is.

Bill holds up his hands in mock exasperation.

"Geez, kid. Take a breather. I'm getting all the heavy machinery in place downstairs. So just take a load off for a minute..."

Bill keeps going as he hands him a water bottle, which Dipper considers turning down. But seeing as Bill can do whatever he likes, and Dipper is parched, he thinks, _Fuck it_ , uncaps the lid, and starts chugging.

"Sit back. Relax. Make sure your meatsuit is nice and snug and ready for me before we pull out the big guns-"

Dipper spits, water bottle clattering to the floor as he forces himself not to hyperventilate, teeth clenched together. He'd been trying to ignore the litany of innuendos, hoping Bill didn't catch on. But now he knows he's definitely, definitely doing it on purpose. It's a new development, but it doesn't change the fact that Dipper knows all too well that the game is the same: make him scared. Make him suffer. Bill is many things, but subtle not so much.

"Oh, lighten up, Pine Tree. This silence isn't like you. Where's the fire, the back-and-forth-" Bill makes a playful swipe of a fist.

Mouth dry, Dipper tries to find his other notes, hoping to salvage the situation somehow, before Bill playing with his hair makes him give up on trying to remain unaffected when he knows exactly what he's playing at. He throws the rest of the contents at Bill instead.

"I'm not in the mood."

The eye-searing, migraine inducing corona always stifling the air around Bill's physical form is closer now, hovering as it materializes on Dipper's opposite side.

"I can see that. So let me help."

There's a spidery hand drumming on Dipper's thigh now that he tries to ignore.

As long ago as it was, he'd never really forgotten how much of a punch to the gut it was when Bill wore him. Even if he'd had other priorities, even if he'd been mostly excited to inflict pain and get what he wanted. The rest of it- all the things Dipper hadn't wanted to think about- come back full force, ready to drown him all over again.

But what he's more scared of now, more than anything, is that he knows Bill won't pull punches, and that he's taking far more of an interest beyond just riling Dipper up. Or maybe being more handsy than he used to be because he can see how much it freaks Dipper out. It's hard to tell, with how much Bill enjoys toying with people just for the hell of it. Then again, he'd liked invading Dipper's space long before this, even if it's more pointed and pronounced.

So Dipper gives up on trying to pretend he's above it all, knowing it's useless, and finally musters the energy to stare the demon down.

He grits out, "Oh. You want to help. Well, if you want to help so fucking bad, where is my family?"

Bill goes still, and blinks down at him.

"Oh. That. Well, the thing is-" He pretends at wringing his hands.

Dipper lunges upright, reaching for a throat that isn't there to wring, and Bill darts farther away.

"No, don't you dare play games with me. I did what you wanted. You got me. So now it's your turn. You told me you'd fix this. You said you'd get them back, alive and safe. So where are they, Bill? Where's all your unlimited power now?" Dipper yells, teeth bared, voice raw, and trying not to lose it.

Bill points his cane and taps it on the brim of Dipper's hat before flicking it off his head, meeting Dipper's accusations with a few of his own.

"Hey. Don't look at me like that. I said I'd _help_ bring them back. I didn't say it wouldn't take _time_. Where they're at, it's gonna take some heavy lifting to get them home free. I just... you know. Used some of my limited input to keep them from decaying in the interim. You're welcome..." Bill's voice distorts a bit, his tone growing colder.

One eye flashes blue, the real thing beneath the facsimile peering through.

But Dipper's patience is far more frayed.

"If you don't give me something-" Dipper lets the threat hang, but Bill cuts him off.

"Kid, if you're going to be grumpy about it, I'm going to need some more incentive. I said I'd give you answers. I didn't say you didn't have to work for them..."

Bill crosses his arms, his eyelid drooping and hooded. Dipper knows the danger signs.

He just can't give a damn. Not after being alone for so long. Not after 12 years. Not after Bill promised and keeps wrenching the hope away again, just because he can-

Dipper bares his teeth.

"Talk. Now."

"Wrong answer." Bill booms, and his eye flashes red as he grows taller. The pulsing, translucent triangle gives way to colors that aren't quite visible and too-many mouths, teeth gnashing and tongues lolling out as it settles into the giant red form cribbed straight from Dipper's worst nightmares.

Dipper leaps and ducks out of the way, trying to escape the grasping limbs curling round his midsection and legs and throat. He tries to reach for the last-ditch symbols he'd drawn in his blood near the bed after the last time he'd survived Bill's hold on his body in the hope it might do something to prevent anything else.

He never makes it, dragged right back where he started, a mess of writhing limbs curling tighter and tighter around him, pinning him arms to his sides.

Dipper keeps his eyes closed, only opening them when the unwanted contact ends, and smaller fingers tug on his arms.

(After Weirdmageddon, Dipper thought he'd forgotten how those felt. The difference in how they moved, the weight of them, the way they could grow and shrink and change texture far too easily. Usually, Bill's limbs are smooth and soft and supple like skin, with a little less give, and the feeling of something cold like frostbite humming with energy always a constant.

But when Bill grew, when he was angry, or when he let loose and let himself reveal more layers and angles and dimensions and turned into something else altogether-

Then all those limbs could be like almost thorns, or slippery, or hard as concrete, or like vines choking and crawling all over you. Or, sometimes they felt like a billion tiny spiders, or pins and needles, or like a low electric current was numbing or frying Dipper's arms. He had tried to forget, but there's some things that don't leave you. Some things are too unlike anything else, too alien to ever adjust to.)

Dipper tries to count. In. Out.

When that doesn't work, he tries to zero in on the only thing that's human enough to lessen the instinctual fear to swallow his tongue, Bill's love of chatting as reliable as his habit of revelling in the sound of his own voice.

"Look. I'm gonna help you. I promise. But it's rare that I get your undivided attentions all to myself. No distractions. No evasions. You understand? And seeing as I already held up my end of the bargain, I just wanted a chance to reconnect good and proper. Not that I'm saying that we can't get this done quick. But if you want 'em back right, and if you're all ready to buckle down and work together to get this done, how about you shape up a little, find those manners I know you've got tucked behind your ears...? Show some gratitude..."

Something slides over the back of Dipper's neck, too wet, too wiry-

And Bill flickers behind Dipper when he tries to pull away, and sits him down on one stringy excuse for a leg, Dipper's own legs splayed on either side.

"I mean, sure, yeah, I'll help you get them back. But why should I do it quickly? What's in it for me? If you're going to try and threaten me, pal, at least try for a carrot instead of the stick."

Dipper tries to ignore the other limbs digging into his thighs. The things that aren't fingers wriggling underneath his shirt, rubbing circles over his scars, and after shifting around, rips the fabric of both his jacket and t-shirt off him, raising goose-flesh as they go.

Dipper shivers, tongue glued to the roof of his mouth, and there's a beat as no one says anything at all.

_Fuck._

Dipper isn't used to this new game. Sure, it's the same as always- fuck with Dipper, laugh at him, make him squirm and writhe in terror as Bill does whatever he wants- but it's a new playing field, more unstable, with all new stakes, and Dipper doesn't know how to fight back this time.

Not when it seems like Bill has caught on to some new fears Dipper has picked up along the way.

"What else do you even want? You have my body... Which, I'm still not sure why you aren't possessing me yet-" Dipper chokes out, before he's being flipped on his back.

Maybe if he ignores what's happening, Bill will get bored. Maybe it'll stop.

Maybe, maybe not.

Bill floats closer, and crosses his own noodle excuses for legs behind him, his not-quite knees bent. The weight of him sits bizarrely heavy on Dipper's ribs even though he's still half-hovering above Dipper's chest, like an anchor being dragged on the ocean floor too fast. It feels warm, and whatever energy crackles there feels like it's going to leave a bruise.

"Oh, we'll get there." Bill drums a few fingers up Dipper's exposed collarbone, and flutters his eyelashes at him with a wink. "I just wanted to iron out the details first. Make sure we all know where we stand."

A few nearly materialized fingers rub the stubble along Dipper's jaw, and Bill glances down, distracted, "Ooh, that's new-"

Dipper slaps his hands off and tries to scoot as far back away from him as he can.

"Don't touch me-"

Bill's main two hands close around Dipper's ankles, tight enough to make Dipper wince.

"Okay, maybe you don't get how this works. Is it denial? Is that the human emotion that's rattled all your reasonable senses right now?" Bill's other limbs- a few tentacles, mixed with something more rubbery and alien and not quite-right but that Dipper doesn't have a name for- scuttle back up over him, like a wave, as Bill's eye draws level with Dipper's face. "You hit your head too hard...? Hmm?"

Bill's eye glows, a yellow floodlight, the rest of his body thrumming ultraviolet until it darkens, pulses into something not quite black-or-blue but beyond the color spectrum, voice layered over itself, rattling in Dipper's eardrums and making his teeth ring.

"I own you, Pine Tree. Your body is mine. In every way. You can play pretend all you want, but we both know the truth."

Dipper hisses through his teeth as he gets shoved into the wall opposite his headboard, skull ringing harder again from where it was already bruised and fractured. For all the effort Bill put in making sure Dipper was patched up, he didn't make it heal fully, and they both know why.

Dipper focuses on that, instead of everything else, instead of what's making his heart hammer out of his chest and the need to lash out and bite like a cornered animal. 

Something echoes, loud and broken, and Dipper falls as the bedframe snaps in two.

In the struggle to make a break for it, Dipper bites down on something not-quite rubbery, a tentacle shoving itself in his mouth, muffling his protests. It tastes half like static shock and half like flesh and half like something Dipper doesn't know and then there's something bruisingly tight around his throat as he gags even harder.

"So how about we get you up to speed."

A few tendrils pull down the waistband of Dipper's jeans below his knees, while Bill's main hand starts cupping the seam over Dipper's crotch, and Dipper freezes. The tentacle slides out of his mouth, brushes sweaty hair out of his eyes, rubs some dried blood off where it's caked over Dipper's birthmark on his forehead.

"This is how this is gonna work, kid..."

Dipper gasps for air as the pressure around his neck lessens, barely able to kick from all the things crawling over him.

"I'm going to help you bring them back, safe and unharmed. And in return, you are going to let me..." The hands pause, and his one eye blinks, turns into teeth and a mouth instead, and licks itself before sliding back into position, while Bill's voice stays pleasant, placid, completely unmoved, as if they are talking about the weather, "Do whatever I want with you. How's that for fair?"

Dipper rallies himself for the inevitable, but can't keep himself from slinging back, "And why would I ever do that?"

Bill draws back a little, the not-quite-a-top-hat on his head tilting as one eye droops a little. Laughing, softer now, at him, before he settles back down again. Holding Dipper down with a gravitational pull Dipper thinks could be the force of a thrumming event horizon, if given a little more of a kick.

"Do you really have a choice? Face it, kid." Bill taps a fist on Dipper's forehead. "You ain't driving this bus anymore. You knew that the moment you shook my hand."

Dipper stares at the ceiling. At Mabel's old crayon drawings across the room, and his old, dusty stuff- cameras and glasses and toys from what feels like lifetime ago- still strewn over the windowpanes.

Something dips into the crook of Dipper's neck. Hungry. Wafting and warm and like a monster under the bed Dipper wants to pretend isn't there.

"But hey, I'll sweeten the pot."

Bill looms closer, light bathing over Dipper until it's all he can see.

"I'll make it feel real good."

\--

The air is cold against Dipper's spine, sweat beading down the back of his neck. The fizzy, coppery taste of fear feels like cotton lodged in his throat.

"You know, it's a good thing we waited so long to reconnect. It makes you appreciate the little things. All those adorable human limitations... Your pathetic carbon-based need for oxygen, for one-"

The words sound distant. Underwater. But Dipper can't pretend they aren't there, knocking around in his head like grainy static or nails on a chalkboard and he'd still rather listen to that than try to process the exact things Bill keeps doing to him.

A tentacle dangles Dipper from where it's wrapped around his throat, tight but not tight enough to cut off all air entirely. His arms and legs are splayed apart, wrists and ankles bound by a a few more tackier limbs with more elastic give.

Bill bounces Dipper lower, lets him bob in the air ever so slightly before he shoves him down on top of him.

There's slight burn and then some give as Dipper is filled up by a mass of tentacles bearing upwards, while Bill's multitudes of extra hands and limbs tug and stroke every spare inch of skin. Experimenting. Testing, seeing what makes Dipper gasp and shudder.

Dipper tries to float away. Tries to ignore the heat in his gut and the way he's half-hard already, the way he matches Bill's abortive movements with his own even when he wants to curl into a ball and hide somewhere Bill can never touch him again.

A tendril ruffles his hair before two tentacles press against Dipper's tongue, then scrape farther down his throat.

"Help a pal out, would ya? Make some more of those precious little noises for me. Wouldn't want to break you in too quick-"

Dipper can't help but comply, gagging when the tentacles push in too hard and deep, biting pain not enough to counter the other sensations, but rough enough that Dipper can't help but instinctively try to curl in on himself, restrained too much for his small rebellion to matter.

When he can hardly breathe, spots dancing over his vision, Dipper sobs out a whine, his fingers clawing at nothing.

The pressure around his neck loosens, before a particularly long limb twists and pulses higher up inside between his legs, like it will split Dipper in two, and then Dipper is making tiny aborted huffing noises double-time, air whistling through his nose, his head pounding as pleasure shoots up his spine like a white hot heat and pain makes him bite down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood.

Something licks inside his mouth to taste it, and reedy laughter grinds like sandpaper against Dipper's eardrums as he can't help but see stars.

"That's it. There you go. You really are something, Pine Tree. So desperate, so needy, so convinced you don't want to put on a show but you just can't quite help it, can you...? You need this."

A hand starts pumping his dick, a slow drag that makes Dipper's legs kick out to chase the friction against his will, winding him back up again.

"But don't worry. I got you. And I take good care of my things..."

One tentacle grabs Dipper's calf to hold him steady, the suckers not quite mimicking an octopus so much as feeling like a bunch of tiny mouths slowly sucking hickies all the way up his inner thigh. The feeling of suction and tiny biting teeth lingers, followed by a kneading drum of fingers digging into the sensitive meat of Dipper's arm.

Dipper moans as a tentacle slips out of him, replaced by two knuckles sliding up between his legs. Bill scrutinizes Dipper's expressions as he ups the friction, and then there's crooked fingers spreading Dipper open.

"You're so nice and tight for me. I'm impressed, Pine Tree. You really know how to show a guy a good time."

More tentacles, wet and warm and heavy, tease their way upwards, on the cusp of too hard when they rock up inside Dipper's cunt, before they twist and squish to fill the shape and conform to every empty space as they creep deeper and farther up inside. Bill's fingers keep stretching Dipper wide, as if the demon is intent on mapping out every inch of him, intent on leaving his mark wherever he goes.

Dipper closes his eyes out of self-preservation.

It doesn't help with everything else.

He doesn't know which way is up, but he can't keep looking at the teeth and the beady eyes and the white glowing pupil, half-lidded, scrutinizing him like he's a science experiment, all too excited to take him apart. The red thrum of Bill's body, not-quite-a-particle not-quite-a-wave, solid but not half a mirage of a physical form, flickers in and out like a badly tuned TV.

Another tendril pushes between his lips, caresses the palate of his mouth again.

Bill tastes like salt and sulfur and blood and the way ozone tastes on the back of your throat before it rains, electric enough to make Dipper's teeth ache.

"You ever let anyone else touch you like this? I'm kidding, I know you, Pine Tree. I bet you never even let anyone get close. Should I be flattered I'm the only one you ever let cop a feel?"

Dipper wishes Bill would shatter into a billion tiny pieces.

He didn't ask for this, he doesn't want this, but he can't help but melt and go limp in Bill's grip, legs trembling, toes curling. He tries to breath through his nose, but can't get enough air, something viscous and tacky dripping down the back of his throat. His chest hurts, and his bones ache, and he feels like he's being slowly picked apart by a supernova.

Like his skin is burning, like he's been left too long in sun, every time a hand crawls over him and leaves its mark.

When the tears start falling and Dipper cries out, Bill lessens the pace to something lazy and uneven, the tentacle sliding out of Dipper's mouth to instead curl around his thigh.

Dipper swallows, drinking in oxygen like he might never get a chance again. The tentacle shifts from his leg to instead stroke the head of his cock, and Dipper full-body flinches.

Everything goes still.

Dipper knows better than to think it's over, but he can't help but pray-

Bill pats his cheek.

"Look at me."

Dipper opens his eyes.

Bill's fingers draw circles over Dipper's lips, tracing his close shave before clutching Dipper's jaw too-tight, wrenching his mouth wide open again to slide a few more tendrils in. Bill pinches Dipper's nose shut, and the pressure over his cock increases, and Dipper chokes, lungs on fire, until Bill releases him.

Dipper sputters, dazed and blinking. He feels rubbed raw, throat aching, all too overstimulated, and the writhing mass caressing every strip of skin between his legs grows wetter and slicker and stickier to compensate.

Bill pulses and hums with what Dipper assumes is possessive appreciation, maybe for subduing Dipper so quickly, or maybe in concentration, or maybe not quite sated yet. The sound rumbles so deep it makes Dipper's ears pop, the light blinding enough that Dipper has to screw his eyelids shut even tighter. The red still bleeds through, though, enough to make Dipper's eyes well with tears again.

"So responsive." Bill coos. "If I knew that all it took to mellow you out was a few touches here, a few extra helpings there, and a home-cooked serving of pain, I'd have gone this route ages ago. You'd be eating out of my hand in no time-"

Dipper can't help but shake his head, and tries to struggle, but then all he can taste and smell and hear is Bill, the tentacle in his mouth shoving all the way the to back of his throat, until it draws back, and he's being rocked into again, but gently. Like Bill is testing the waters, like he knows Dipper going to collapse any moment, as if he knows if he gets too greedy he might break something permanently.

"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist. I didn't really have an interest back then. You hadn't really caught my eye. So tiny and young and useless... Well, mmm, maybe not quite so useless, your body always was a five-star suite-"

Fingers rake down Dipper's chest, tips turning sharper, dragging along the hair, and drawing a few drops of blood as they go.

Another hand traces up his Adam's apple as Dipper shakes, teeth chattering.

There's a mouth where Bill's eye usually is, kissing the edges of Dipper's lips, and then it's gone.

Only then a giant tongue licks between his legs, sloppy and warm.

Dipper's back arches and his eyes roll back, and after a few more strokes, Bill's eye shifts back to normal, eyelashes fluttering against Dipper's own.

"But man, am I glad that I get to explore all the little perks this time. Who knew being reunited could make ya feel so warm and fuzzy inside..."

There's a pause as Bill surveys his work, his nonexistent brow crinkling as he gives Dipper a chance to heave in a giant breath and then another, and then lets him keep going, chest rising and falling, Dipper all too hyper-aware of his too-tight skin and the sensations brushing over it, and around it, and the not-quite-rugburn and the rapid thudding heartbeat leaping in his throat as Bill's hand moves from Dipper's throat to instead massage his labia.

A few tentacles curve upwards, lightly grinding against Dipper's ass before another thrust shoves them in.

"Is this how this usually goes? Human intimacy? You're my only frame of reference, and if we're going to bring this partnership to the next level, I want to make it count..."

Bill picks up the pace again, forcing Dipper's knees to bend back more as he shoves a few more in. These ones are ribbed, with more drag, and Dipper floats in and out of awareness before the feeling ebbs and the sensation turns tight and uncomfortable. Bill rides him through it, tongue settling back over Dipper's cunt as he licks up inside, loosening him up again.

Dipper keeps his jaw soldered shut, and grinds his teeth together to keep the muffled whimpers from clawing up his throat.

"This may be all new territory, but if I had to take a stab at it," Dipper flinches as Bill probes a bit too deep, every following thrust a bit more sawed off and impatient. "I'd say you filled out quite nicely. Whole new package deal."

The tendrils roaming over Dipper's ribcage slide up to his torso, going soft as Bill drags them in smaller circles around Dipper's nipples.

Dipper's head lolls, mouth agape, breathing going ragged as Bill flicks each nub upwards. Bill matches Dipper's half-aborted movements, bearing down in harsher bursts.

Dipper cries out, goes limp.

Bill's grip slackens. All his extra tentacles slide out of Dipper as he lets him down, save for one that goes still, but keeps lingering up inside him. Bill otherwise leaves Dipper crumbled and bruised over a mass of teething, rubbery limbs covering the cold, hard floor.

Dipper doesn't know how long the reprieve will last, seeing as one tendril stays wraps around his ankle, squeezing too-tight in warning whenever he tries to sit up.

"You've gone awful quiet, Pine Tree."

Dipper knows that tone, and picks the safe option instead of the brave one.

"What do you even get out of this?" He whispers, voice raw. He rubs the bruises over his neck, trying to look anywhere but up.

A tentacle pushes his chin up, forcing him to meet Bill's eye.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm always up for a good time. Champion of a world of no limits and new experiences, where nothing is taboo, remember?"

Bill's pyramidal three levels twist and turn, teething, before he pulls out fully and licks a line up from Dipper's clit all the way to his sternum, a line of something thicker than spit following the happy trail of hair on Dipper's stomach and up his chest. A few fingers drum over Dipper's hip as if in consideration, and then the wandering hands go back to rubbing tiny circles over Dipper's dick with lighter contact, in longer strokes.

Dipper's breath hitches.

A mouth looms over Dipper's own, tongue lolling, teeth bared in a sharp grin. Something wet prods the small of Dipper's back and up the curve of his shoulder-blades, then nudges the sensitive strip of skin up the crook of his neck before something else mouths at his ear.

"And you didn't exactly make it a challenge to figure out how to push your buttons. You broadcast your emotions so easily, kid. How could I resist?"

"You can stop, you've made your point-"

Dipper's air cuts off abruptly as the tentacle tightens around his neck again, and Dipper struggles and claws at it as Bill laughs and laughs and laughs.

"Ha! That's a good one. You're all work and no play, kid. No, we're just warming up. Least you can do for all the trouble you've put me through. Besides, I like the faces you make. All that blood flow, pumping through those fragile veins... That, and you're so very invested in this. Humans really don't appreciate piloting their skin-puppets enough. But you. You got it re-calibrated and everything. Really, you should be thanking me for being so thorough. Making sure you're all in one piece before I take you for a joyride. We wouldn't want me forgetting about the custom refurbishments if I had to stitch ya back together..."

One of Bill's long, dark tongues darts out and flicks the head of Dipper's cock, his other hands dragging him closer again.

"That would be a real shame."

Below the red hum of Bill's solid form, his writhing mass of gnashing tentacles and teeth and mouths and eyes and limbs coalesces into something yawning wide open, leeching what looks like liquid nothing.

"So, my happy little camper. Ready for another round? Who am I kidding-"

Dipper spasms as the gaping void starts sucking, enveloping every molecule and inch of skin as he takes him to the hilt.

"'Course you are."

\--

"Stop, please, Bill-" Dipper chokes off.

Bill's eye roams over Dipper's flushed face. Hungry. Unfulfilled.

"You really are something. All that stamina... I could just keep you going for ages. You should be proud of yourself for keeping up."

Dipper lets out a litany of muffled whimpers as Bill changes the angle he's pushing in. All the while, the mouth on Dipper's cock keeps sucking, a tongue swirling circles beneath the tip.

When Dipper finally finds his voice, he shouts, raspy, "If you tire me out, my body isn't going to be that much use-"

A hand pulls Dipper's hair, cutting him short, and when Dipper flinches, another hand rubs the back of his neck.

"It's durable enough. And you haven't quite nailed my object lesson yet, kid. But if you want to wrap this up so bad..." Bill's words hang.

Dipper tries not to hope. He knows that trap.

But he can't quite stop himself from begging once Bill lowers him closer to the floor.

"Please, please-" Dipper whispers.

"Who do you belong to, Pine Tree?"

Dipper freezes.

When Dipper says nothing, more sticky, pulsing limbs shove up inside him, and more crawl into Dipper's mouth, and Bill thrusts deeper, faster, longer.

Dipper bites down, and says something, mumbled, until Bill lets him have his voice back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that-"

"I'm not yours." Dipper breathes.

There's one horrible, endless moment as Bill stares at him, completely still, one eye a narrow slit.

Everything turns blinding as he starts working Dipper over again, not pausing even when bones start to snap and Dipper screams or when he fades in and out of consciousness.

Bill just mends him, shocks him back, and waits until he gets exactly what he asked for.

\--

It's a long time before he asks, "You want to try again?"

It takes a few more rounds before Dipper mumbles, half-incoherent, "Bill-"

"Who owns you, Pine Tree?" Bill whispers.

"You."

"Good. That's real good..."

"Bill-" Dipper's voice chokes off as a tentacle slips inside his mouth again, stopping him from biting off his tongue, before they recede.

"And who do you need more than anything?" The sharpness returns, and Dipper's voice cracks.

"You."

"There you go. Was that so hard?" Bill's voice turns so very soft and gentle again.

And Dipper can't stop the muffled, broken whimpers every time Bill fucks in.

\--

One black eye, multiple lacerations, and a lot of bite marks later, Bill lets finally him go.

Dipper crawl into the corner, dodging as Bill's extra limbs flail above him. The main ones recede, turning short and stubby, and the rest dissolve into a rain of tiny, yellow-eyed spiders that scuttle to the rest of the house. A few of their singular eyes blink at Dipper under the bed.

Bill shrinks back down to his usual, less-intimidating digs, dusts off his bloodied hands, and takes of his hat, tossing it in the air and catching it again.

Dipper pulls the old patchwork quilt around himself and huddles under it, hands shaking as he retrieves his boxers. He doesn't bother with his jeans- his skin is too raw to handle it, and his hands are shaking too much to button anything.

"Alright, Pine Tree. Now that we got that stick up your ass all good and handled, and I've got a solid idea of all the new exciting ways you've really grown into yourself, let's talk shop. You ready to take the plunge and let me in?"

Dipper swallows.

He almost asks, "Do I have a choice?"

But he isn't ready to chance anything.

Dipper nods.

There's no need to shake, this time. The deals already sealed, and the outcome already inevitable.

Bill materializes behind him, hands on his shoulders, and in a flash he crawls down Dipper's throat, feeling like a wriggling nest of spider legs all the way down.

\--

Dipper almost welcomes feeling insubstantial and floating as they trade places. It beats the state his body was in.

Bill rises, and sticks one arm through Dipper's red and black checkered flannel, then another. Doesn't struggle to buckle his pants, although he stops midway and lunges when he catches Dipper making a break for it.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

The contact is searing, and trying to pull away feels like it's going to rip Dipper in half, even as he keeps trying to get as far away as possible.

"To get some air...?" Dipper's excuse echoes weakly, his voice breaking.

Dipper yelps as Bill snatches his soul up and snuggles him close to his chest.

Like a bug in a spiderweb, struggling only tangles Dipper harder.

Bill smooths down Dipper's ghostly tufts of hair, shushing his protests.

"You're not going anywhere, Pine Tree."

Dipper finds himself being lifted a few inches, and kicks out, albeit half-halfheartedly. (He doesn't know Bill's limits, yet. He's blind. He's helpless and exhausted and he doesn't know how to get out of this and he doesn't know why Bill can do this when confined to the limits of Dipper's body-)

"No, this time around, we're sticking together like glue. Can't have you wandering off of your lonesome causing trouble. You have a particular talent for it."

A muscle leaps in Dipper's nonexistent jaw.

"I thought you didn't need me." Dipper argues.

Bill waves Dipper's hand, flippant, then pops a few dislocated joints back in place as he rolls his shoulders.

"Things change. See, here's the deal, kid. Back in the day, once I got a physical form of my own, the rules shuffled around a bit. So now the name of the game is you get to anchor your soul right here," Bill motions to Dipper's chest, where it remains unbuttoned over his heart. "While I get to latch on. Think of it as co-piloting."

It's not that Dipper doesn't want to steal back motor controls on his body. He just doesn't like how excited Bill is about this, or whatever hidden cache is waiting in the wings.

"And why do we need to do that?" Dipper challenges. He hates this. Not knowing anything. Being as lost as ever and completely at this bastards mercy and not being able to do anything about it...

Bill spins around, re-acclimating to the change in weight and pressure and the constraints of gravity and not being able to mold reality and matter to his will.

He dips Dipper and gathers him up in his arms, throwing Dipper off-balance.

"Because we're going to be taking a small field trip across a few dimensions-"

"Wait..." Dipper's murmurs, and his eyes narrow.

"Oh, did I forget to mention that-" Bill says, too airily. His yellow eyes gleam, nostrils flaring.

Dipper knows the danger hanging like blood in the water, and doesn't take the bait.

"You haven't told me anything." Dipper says, every word measured and careful and quiet.

Bill quirks a eyebrow, and a small half-smile creeps over his stolen face.

"Don't act so surprised, kid. You had some good running theories-" Bill gives him a playful prod, and Dipper winces, lowering his gaze, "You just missed the obvious. So yes, the rest of your lost Pines clan aren't in this world. And we're gonna need to fire up the big bad portal, stab in some new coordinates. Maybe rip open another rift. Which means this body needs all the metaphysical firepower it can get. That, and I'm not leaving you behind."

Dipper digests that with a dose of skepticism, bone deep exhaustion, and resignation.

A hand slides over Dipper's jaw, Bill faking a sigh as he reels him in tighter.

"Look, kid. I got mine. And I have no reason to lie. You're coming with me, whether I have to drag you with me or keep you close, and it's safer to let you back in your own skin, which, I would think you would appreciate. And fact is, I hold up my end of the deal, whatever you might think."

Dipper still isn't sure why Bill wants his body, why he's holding this over his head, or what the smug, manipulative, sadistic bastard is playing at. And he does not like where this is going, even if he doesn't have much say in the matter.

But he also knows how to keep his head down and reassess tactics while trying to get out from under his thumb.

"Fine. What do we have to do?" Dipper asks, getting into a mode he usually only reserves when on a case. (It's been such a long time, since Ford and Stan and Mabel... And then Dipper pushes it down. He's getting closer. That's all that matters, right now-)

Bill drums his fingers on the edge of the broken bedpost.

"First, we need to get the radioactive materials, which I can handle. Then we'll need someone to keep this fired up on this side, while we go on our quest. You can probably scrounge up some friends, I take it? I'm sure they'd love to join the hunt..."

Dipper grows quiet. He doesn't want to involve anyone else with Bill.

"Kid? You with me?"

Bill snaps in front of their face.

"Yeah."

Bill smiles down at him.

"That's what I like to hear."

Then Dipper is being pulled close again, and Bill whispers, oh so quiet, "You ready to hop back in?"

Dipper braces himself, like he's about to hold his breath and learn to swim, or jump off a too-high cliff, and doesn't flinch when he finds himself humming with the same electric warmth humming all around him.

At least his body feels grounding. Even if he can't move his arms or legs and the pain still makes him want to bury himself in ice for a year and never crawl back out.

Even if he can feel Bill's own presence like a live wire leeching into him, fingers digging into his shoulder and the sharp flatness of his form pressed up against him where they conjoin inside Dipper's stolen skin.

Instead of making his way downstairs, Bill steps towards the mirror.

Dipper is suddenly aware of how exposed he feels, looking back a himself. Clothes still half-torn and in disarray, shirt unbuttoned, pants unzipped.

Bill keeps eyeing their reflection like he wants to pick it apart into tiny pieces, stretches their hamstrings, and starts rubbing the tension out of Dipper's shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like, genius?"

Dipper doesn't say something stupid, like, "I thought you were over this," or, "I thought we were about to get things done," or, "Would it kill you not to touch me for five goddamn minutes..."

Or at least, he tries not to.

Until he notices he can feel everything happening to his body still, even when he's not in charge of steering.

And then he can't help but protest.

"Bill-"

"Oh, can it, Pine Tree. I gotta make sure you're all in one piece. And I've never really had a chance to observe how you feel up close and personal myself-"

Bill runs a hand down Dipper's chest.

"You get hot and bothered by the strangest things."

"Stop it!"

"Or you'll, what...?"

Bill makes a show of putting a hand down Dipper's boxers, other hand pushing down his jeans so they fall back down to his ankles.

Dipper can't control his eyes, or the way he's forced to look in the mirror.

Bill doesn't so much as blink as he palms his dick, squeezing, and when Dipper intakes a breathe, one set of fingers pushes farther down to slide inside him again.

Dipper sinks to his knees.

"You sure are sensitive here, and... Oh," Bill hums, blinking, as his voice grows hoarse, "That's nice."

And then it just stings as Bill rubs the raw and tender places he'd been working over for hours.

"But this is definitely more my speed-"

Dipper finds his mouth back inside his control, as he whines, "Bill-"

"Pain makes you so tingly..."

"Please-" Dipper full on bodily winces, biting the inside of his mouth.

Bill's laughter turns shrill and grating.

"You know, it always blows my mind, how incredibly dumb you are. It's hilarious, don't get me wrong. But it gets me every time."

Bill leans back and spreads Dipper's legs wide again, this time licking Dipper's fingers, seeking out the sensitive places and making a show of being gentle.

"Don't think so hard, Pine Tree. You're mine. Just let yourself enjoy the ride."

\--

When it's over, when Bill has had his fill and rises, licking their fingers clean, Dipper dares ask a question.

(He's not too sure how much worse this can get, with how it's been so far.)

"Why me?" Dipper asks. Trying to ignore the hand brushing over his crotch again before Bill zips and buttons his jeans.

"Come again?" Bill drawls, buttoning up their shirt before moving to adjust their collar.

"Why do you even need me now? You have your powers. You even had your own body." And then Dipper makes a lucky guess, based on all his other theories, "And now that we made a deal, you aren't trapped or bound to Gravity Falls any more..."

Bill rubs the nape of Dipper's neck, like he's seen Dipper do countless times to soothe himself. And then he's making his way across the hall, washing Dipper's hands with an old bar of homemade soap Mabel had long since left behind, and too-cold water, as if he's trying to prove a point.

"Semantics. Pine Tree, don't sell yourself short. What you give me I can't get anywhere else. Company. Endless entertainment... Consider it repayment, seeing as it's only fair after you put me in solitary... Not to mention a whole new way to torment your family forever-"

"You can't..." Dipper pauses as yellow eyes narrow, and course-corrects, "Won't hurt them. We made a deal-" Dipper can't quite keep the fear, the knowledge that Bill twists deals as easily as he makes them, out of the quaver in his voice.

Bill licks their lips.

"Oh, I won't, I promise. But there's no clause saying I can't have my fun with you..."

Bill ruffles their hair, and the hand settling on Dipper's shoulder gives a squeeze.

"And you haven't disappointed yet! Besides, I like these new perks. You and me, feeling the same things, experiencing all these sensations as a united front... You can keep me from going off the deep end, and I can make sure you stay durable. Win-win, if you ask me."

"I didn't." Dipper spits, trying to wrench away where he can feel Bill's true self smothering him.

Bill's stolen eyes pulse red, tone growing cold and low.

"What did we say about manners, Pine Tree?"

_Shit._

Dipper backtracks as fast as possible.

"Okay, Bill. You win. But you're going to have to teach me the ropes."

"'Course, kid. Can't have you getting performance anxiety moving forward-"

Dipper rolls his eyes.

"Last time, you weren't exactly keen on me co-piloting-" He tries to keep the pure vitriol out of his voice, and only marginally succeeds.

Bill's smile widens.

But before he can say anything, there's a yell from downstairs. From a very familiar voice.

"I don't know who you are," Wendy's voice calls, "But you have exactly two seconds to march down here. I've got an axe and I am not afraid to use it!"

"And the show goes on," Bill murmurs, then talks rapid-fire, "Don't worry, Pine Tree. I'll teach you all sorts of tricks. You can trust me. Now that we're in this for the long haul, I wouldn't ever steer you wrong. Now, go get 'em, tiger. Let's see those acting chops in action."

Dipper swallows, knowing that there's a lot of history saying otherwise, and finds he's back in control.

However long it lasts.

Hands shaking, Dipper heads downstairs.

Wendy, to her benefit, doesn't accidentally maim him with an axe.

"Hey." Dipper gives a small wave, and then finds himself crushed in a hug.

"You could've called!" Wendy starts in.

Then she takes in the state Dipper is in, and exclaims, "You look like shit."

"Thanks." Dipper doesn't have the heart to add, "You should see the other guy," for old time's sake.


	3. Boys Will Be Bugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Backstory. It's not as nuanced as it should be but c'est la vie.
> 
> Chapter title a song by Cavetown.

It's been four months since Mabel's disappearance.

Dipper is thirteen, and just had his Bar Mitzvah.

(Normally, he'd push it off. He doesn't want to go through any milestones without Mabel right beside him.)

But the family wants to stick together. (And privately, Stan and Ford want to make a plan to keep searching, to cast a wider net and compare leads.)

\--

For all intents to be a unit, the cracks show through fast. Losing Mabel strains the family enough that Mom and Dad eventually decide it's best to get a divorce. Each one almost blames the other, but it's not even that.

Things were already strained beforehand- the Pines sent their kids to Grunkle Stan for a reason, and it wasn't just to have them get fresh air.

Eventually, it gets ugly enough that Dipper finds himself back at the Mystery Shack with Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford holding primary custody full time.

He prefers it, that way. It's not that he can be angry at his parents for their pain- he understands- but he can't help but yell at them for being selfish and letting it be about them and using Mabel as an excuse for all their problems, for falling apart, for not focusing on what matters, which is getting Mabel back...

After that, they seem to tiptoe a lot more around him.

Mom drops in sometimes and stays over, every once in a while. She drinks a lot more often. (Grunkle Ford and Stan try to discourage it, although they have to ban her outright after a few weeks and one bad night. Stan has been clean ever since the memory wipe, and doesn't keep booze in the house. And they don't want Dipper dealing with that, either.)

Dad still takes Dipper to diners and fishing trips when he comes to town. He even starts using Dipper's chosen name, like he thinks Dipper might disappear, too. (Once upon a time, he had been more confused by Dipper when he had come out, but it didn't seem to bother him as much these days.)

For all the ways Dipper's parents can't keep it together, they do work as a team in two ways: neither of them want to stop looking for Mabel, begging anyone they can to make sure the manhunt continues. And they do try to pay attention to Dipper more, enough that they notice how much he's withdrawing. It's like being under a microscope, and it means that his own efforts to find Mabel are hindered, because they don't want him out of sight.

They already lost one child. It hangs over them. Suffocating and terrifying and bringing them together even as everything else all falls to pieces.

Dipper sometimes feels like he's a ghost, too. Like something was gone forever, and he was just a memory of someone else reminding his family of someone else every time they look at him.

\--

Everyone notices when Dipper starts acting weird. Blacking out, sleep walking, migraines... Screaming in the middle of the night.

When his parents are around, sometimes it means more anxiety-laden fights where they lay into each other when they think Dipper can't hear.

Sometimes it means more smothering by absolutely everyone.

Grunkle Ford and Stan run tests and keep checking in, trying to keep him from falling to pieces or to figure out if it's just stress or coming from an outside force, whether it's related to what happened to Mabel or another danger entirely.

They don't find anything.

Neither of them are particularly good with emotions, or handling things, but if there's anything that brings them closer, it's taking care of Dipper, and trying to get Mabel back.

Stan bakes a lot more, trying to make sure Dipper doesn't turn to skin and bones.

Ford takes Dipper out into the woods on more trips with him, making sure he always has something to keep him occupied.

All of them avoid Bill's statue.

(Even if sometimes, Dipper finds himself waking up next to it. But he doesn't tell his family about that. He can't put more on their plate. He can't let this be about him- Mabel is all that matters.)

Because he will not accept that she's gone.

She's out there. He just hasn't found her yet.

And all the other pain... That can stay in the past.

It's over.

\--

The next summer, all the leads Stan and Ford and Dipper have been compiling finally narrow down a few places. Potentially reopened rifts. Cursed areas. Things that might have reason to spirit Mabel away.

\--

The other thing Dipper's parents agree on is keeping him from going on searches with Grunkle Ford and Stan. They all try to pass the trips off as vacations, but even that doesn't deter the attempts to derail them or get involved.

They can't handle it, and while they don't have enough influence on their own, sometimes Ford and Stan don't argue, because their fears are the same.

(Dipper will just find a way to hide the fact he's going with or stowing away, when Ford and Stan aren't on board. Magic has to be good for something. Or if that's a wash, he'll resort to all the lying he can manage, after watching Stan work the floor and learning from the master.)

\--

Dipper leaves the Falls after one year. As much as he wants to stay in a place that feels like an echo of what home used to be, and with everyone else who is there for him...

He can't.

And it's not just because Mabel isn't there.

It's because he knows it's part of the problem.

(He knows something is wrong, and the minute he leaves the borders into the rest of Oregon, he feels like he can breathe again.)

Grunkle Ford and Grunkle Stan are fine with relocating. Ford has enough funds to rent a flat, and Stan, while banned in several states, has not missed a trick and keeps his cover when needed, seeing as no one really knows who he actually is, and Ford has primary custody, anyway.

Even after leaving, though, the nightmares... They don't stop.

Ford tries to help Dipper find a doctor for it, prescription meds or home remedies, and when that doesn't work, he almost considers experimenting himself.

Dipper nixes that. He'll manage. And it's fine. He's... fine.

And they need to focus on getting Mabel back. The longer time goes by, it's like everyone is slowly... not exactly getting used to it, because it's not something you get over. But growing less frenzied.

Like they are coming to terms with something Dipper will never accept.

And he will not be the weak link.

He knows he can put on a mask, and that he'll make everyone believe that he's managing and sleeping and fine.

Because if that's what needs to be done, to make sure people aren't allocating resources or attention somewhere else, then that is what he'll do.

School... Dipper manages. He's not as good as he used to be, because he phones it in, but he does well enough so that his Grunkles don't get in trouble or more suspicious.

Otherwise, life keeps going. Grunkle Stan and Ford still help him transition, helping Dipper get him on puberty blockers his family once tried to stop before Mabel was lost, and then helping him get a therapist and eventually on testosterone.

Life keeping going.

Dipper still feels like he's drowning, even if it's a little less than before.

\--

When Dipper can't accompany Ford and Stan, he lets himself be bounced around, with Mom and Dad sharing custody every blue moon once he turns sixteen. (Mom went to rehab. Dad got counseling. Both of them are doing... better. Comparatively. Enough that a court lets them try again, with a lot of extra scrutiny, since they don't have any other living relatives left.)

More often than not, though, Dipper crashes with Wendy at her family's log cabin in the middle of nowhere outside the Falls, or with Soos when he visits more distant relatives, or sometimes Pacifica lends out her couch, after cutting off her family and making her own way. When the Grunkles aren't keeping them with him, because they're afraid he'll get hurt, they're his next best bet. Candy and Grenda offer their apartment, too, but they don't always have the means to make it out of town. (And sometimes, even though they all share the loss, it's a little too hard for Dipper to hang around. It makes the absence even harder to deal with.)

But Dipper isn't going to be kept out of the loop, or stopped from making his own investigations.

After being around Grunkle Stan and Soos so long, he's good at hotwiring cars, forging documents, disguises, and maintaining covers to make sure no one knows when he's skipping town without a chaperone. It's not that he wants people not to know... But Dipper can't take the helplessness. He needs going out on his own to find his own leads without everyone hovering. Both Grunkles aren't happy when they find out, and nor are his friends...

\--

Dipper turns sixteen.

The world keeps going, yet he still feels like he's half frozen. Some things he's achieved, some things he has not...

But Mabel is still gone, and that swamps everything.

\--

Half a year later, Ford and Stan get back from the Artic and are bound for an expedition in the Pacific afterwards. For this one, they need to launch from Gravity Falls- something about calculations related to the weirdness conservation law- and they beg Dipper to come with them. He isn't acting like himself- getting sicker, getting quieter. If it's between danger out there and danger when Dipper is left unseen, they know which fear they'll pick.

Dipper tells them he can't.

The best bet they have is splitting up.

They have over three leads. They can cover more ground this way.

(That, and he can't go back to the Falls. Not after the last time he was there.

Not when Bill's laughter never stopped ringing in his ears.)

\--

Stan and Ford Pines crackle over the radio one stormy November 3.

And that's the last Dipper hears from them.

\--

Three months later, there's an overdose in a hotel, and a freak car crash two weeks after.

And when it comes to blood relations, Dipper finds himself very much alone.

\--

Like every birthday, Dipper holds Mabel's purple "self-esteem" sweater in his hands. It still smells like her.

He hugs it close and cries.

The journal she left him five weeks before she was gone stays on the bedside table. Every crossed out lead, every dead end, every other bit of research Dipper has put together with his family.

\--

Soos moves out from the Mystery Shack and takes Dipper in after that. Keeps Grunkle Ford's apartment, having had enough dough to keep it maintained.

He knows Dipper can't go back. It's too much, too painful, without everyone all there-

And there's a lot of other reasons Dipper can't face the past.

\--

Dipper, at first, tried to discourage him.

"Soos, I can't make you leave your dream behind-"

"Dreams don't mean anything if you can't help the people you care about, dude."

It's like a mantra that he says, every time Dipper tries to push him away.

Or, it's like the time Soos says, "I know I'm not always good at knowing what to say, and it won't make it easier. It's... it's a lot, having them be gone. Waiting. Not knowing if they'll come back. But I am here for you. And when they do come back, I'll be here. And if they don't... I'll still be here."

It means a lot. It really does, having Soos help ground him and be like a brother when everything else was spinning out of control.

But it doesn't make the agony any easier to bear.

\--

Dipper keeps his head down, until he turns eighteen. And then he tells Soos he's going out on his own.

When Soos can't track him down, he heads back to Gravity Falls. Dipper still talks with him and his friends, makes sure they know he's okay.

But he stays distant.

He leaves no trace when he moves. He still knows enough from Stan to get around on his own and make his way, and still keeps in touch with Soos and Wendy and Pacifica and Grenda and Candy like clockwork, always checking in at the same time on certain days so they know he's fine, even if he can't ever go back to Gravity Falls yet.

Not unless he's exhausted every other option.

Because as much as he'd like to think otherwise, deep down, he knows what's waiting for him.

\--

He doesn't have to wait long.


	4. The Moss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title a song by Cosmo Sheldrake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is absolutely no Bill/Dipper when Dipper is 12, but Bill is a creep in general with child murder and maiming and stuff
> 
> This is chapter 6 I think.
> 
> Part of the backstory sock opera weirdmageddon Bill POV redux.

Once Pine Tree starts breathing slower, tapped out and unable to keep his eyes open thanks to wringer Bill's been putting him through for weeks, Bill gets to work. As fun as feeling the kid's insides up is, seeing as it's the closest Bill can get to turning him inside out or peeling off the layers of his skin without causing damage he doesn't have time to attend to, Bill has another purpose in his nightly walks through the kid's dreams and deeper memories tonight.

It's easy sliding in, and for all the kid's decent control over the mindscape when lucid, he doesn't have anything on Bill, not with the practiced influence he's been exerting while experimenting with his REM cycle.

And it's not like Pine Tree has many defenses ringing the alarms. Bill's been infiltrating the kid's mind on and off for 12 years, after all- almost recognized like a native. And sure, he didn't have much control for the first half a decade, barely a wisp, barely able to do much other than pick up a few stray thoughts and emotions in his brain. Once in a while he was able to stumble into the odd dream or two as the kid grew up, able to add an extra kick to nightmares. That escalated, especially after Pine Tree's pituitary gland kicked into gear and he could observe the wires crossing in his brain. Going through puberty gave Bill front row seats to all the things Pine Tree couldn't handle, even if it was muted once the kid got on testosterone and then the whole landscape shifted. The fears and nightmares were still there, but the edge had been taken off, and then things got interesting in other ways. Nothing Bill could use yet, but he could at least observe if he was bored enough. Didn't want to draw to much attention by meddling, either, instead trying to see if he can reach out into the mindscape and past the confines of the kid's head to get the ball rolling on projects once he made his way out.

No, it wasn't until Pine Tree hit twenty that Bill could add a few personal touches of his own to the kid's dreams, which was a decent holdover, considering there's not much to do while trapped inside someone's head, in his weakened state. Making Pine Tree think he was being fucked out of his mind after reliving some of his worst memories didn't help Bill with anything, but it was fun watching the shame and the self-hatred and the conflicting need the kid conducted himself with before the kid woke up or dropped back off into unawareness and the cycle started back up again.

But it'd been getting easier, fully manifesting, until finally he'd been able to carve himself a spot in the kid's latent subconscious and get into the real fun stuff. And once that happened, Bill could play with Pine Tree's head without him even knowing he was there, or at least being unable to be sure.

But he's got a different mission tonight.

He's a dream demon, master of nightmares. And he's going to delve into the fears Pine Tree thought he'd long since buried and make a whole new magnum opus, a recipe specially made for him in the waking world to nudge him where Bill needs him to go.

And if the end result doesn't make him more pliable and open to advances, then the least Bill can say is that he had himself a good time.

\--

Bill skips through most of their initial introductions. Kid hadn't really feared him yet, and they hadn't really gotten acquainted much. Bill was more focused on getting his own deal with Gideon handled, and distracted by Shooting Star and Question Mark, so he takes note of the kid's old (now abandoned and more obsolete) fear of being hated by his family for a multitude of reasons that are less relevant now (which could still be used, but not as easily as other insecurities, Bill supposes, although the kid really doesn't give as much of a damn about people's opinions these days...). But the fear of his family hating him for dealing with Bill could be a nice callback, if need be, even if not exactly rooted in his family hating Pine Tree for being himself. Bill decides to leave that one for the drawing board as a tentative option, and then glides past those memories to settle on the ones that give him less indigestion.

Even after all these years, the mere memory of Shooting Star and Question Mark get on his nerves.

Pine Tree did show off and give them the tools to best him, though, which got his attention and set everything else in motion. Bill can't complain about that.

And Bill will admit, it is still hilarious how dumb their merry band is. That, at least, is a universal constant he can always have work in his favor.

Bill moves on to the dream memories- the ones he can influence the most, seeing as they are rooted around in the same place as current dreams, and floats on into his first attempts to con the kid good and proper. There are building blocks he might be neglecting to revisit, after all, and it's always good to know what makes the kid waver. Even if he is all grown up and has grown less naive- he's still very, very young compared to Bill, and he hasn't been around the block enough to run circles around him yet, by all rights still a bit dumb because he hasn't see enough yet.

The only thing Bill knows will trip him up is the human customs thing. Some of that stuff, he's got down pat, but he hasn't studied humanity too excessively for other smaller details not to slip through the cracks.

\--

Dipper yawns and rubs his burning eyes stuck squinting at the screen in the darkness. "There has to be some shortcut or clue. Who would know about secret codes?"

That's Bill's cue.

A gust of wind blows, too cold, strong enough to snap the hinges of the computer shut. Dipper leaps to his feet clutches his hat, and tries to ignore the feeling rising on the back of his neck and prickling up his spine.

The feeling of being watched.

He glances around, keeping the laptop close to his chest. Trying to be ready for anything, even if he knows his limits. Or thinks he does, anyway.

A blue glow effuses Dipper like a spotlight from behind him, and he turns, leaps back stumbling, unable to stop the panicked yell rising from his throat as the moon grows one singular pupil and then assembles itself into a neon blue pyramid.

An echoing voice, deeper and shrill and not, with a frenetic combination of frequencies that makes Dipper want to cover his ears, answers.

"I think I know a guy."

Bill likes pulling all the stops out for a grand entrance. It's nice to be appreciated.

Dipper shields his eyes from the lightning strike, and when he looks next, Bill Cipher is levitating above him, over five times taller, the noodle-consistency of appendages hanging down close enough that Dipper almost takes another step back.

He closes his mouth the minute he realizes its gaping open, and glares.

"Well, well, well," Bill spins his cane, blinking with every word, and his arms settle on his hips as he looks down with one lidded eye. "You're awfully persistent, Pine Tree. Hat's off to you-"

The world turns as Bill tips his hat, and Dipper tries to figure out how he's not supposed to fall upwards into the sky as his stomach drops out, screaming-

Before everything rights itself again and he trips and falls on his ass.

Bill blinks. Pine Tree is in so far over his head and doesn't even know it.

Dipper rises, pointing, teeth bared as he yells, "You again!"

Bill shrinks down and floats closer, and tries for placating.

"Didya miss me?" He sings, eyeing Dipper and pointing to himself like he's some kind of coy mischief maker and not something both terrifying and nauseatingly smug by his estimation of Dipper's resulting glare. "Admit it. You missed me-"

Dipper grinds his teeth together.

"Hardly. You worked with Gideon. You tried to destroy my Uncle's mind!" 

It's cute, how much he's wound up already.

The Bill in front of Dipper fades out as another materializes behind him, upside down. His pupil turns thin and beady, sizing Dipper up as Dipper flinches back ever so slightly, refocusing.

Bill rights himself, and absently taps his fingers on the plane of space just below his eye, cool as a cucumber as he chews the scenery, still trying to suppress laughter and only half succeeding.

"It was just a job, kid. No hard feelings."

At least until he blinks red, and grows so large that his eye is as big as Dipper's body, voice reverberating, "I've been keeping an EYE on you-" Bill's pupil glows white as the rest of the cornea turns inky-black. Gotta keep Pine Tree off balance and on his toes, so he doesn't have too much time to think things over. That's the unspoken rule one of negotiations, and any good salesman knows it.

Dipper clutches the computer in front of him like a shield and leans as far back as he can on instinct, until Bill floats to the other side and shrinks back down, hands still on his hips, not pausing his rapid-fire speech. "-Since then. And I must say, I'm impressed."

Bill takes note as Dipper relaxes a fraction, ever so slightly. "Really?"

Wow. As terrified as he is, the kid is starving for praise that badly. Might be useful down the road.

Bill taps his fingers in consideration, and while he has a few options, he just can't resist messing around when he adds, "You deserve a prize. Here..."

Bill claps, and adds, "Have a head that's always screaming."

With any luck, the kid will attribute it to Bill not knowing human customs or being "crazy," by human standards, which, while an effective tool for misdirection, is also grossly unfair. It's not Bill's fault humans are limited and can't see how amusing their blood and guts and internal working parts are from the outside.

Dipper steps back as the ghostly screaming head does it's thing, unable to suppress a startled yell of his own, his foot dangling in the air as he freezes. His eyes, however, keep glancing at Bill.

So Pine Tree knows to keep his eyes on the prize. Yeah, Bill likes this mark more and more. He's quicker on the uptake than old Sixer ever was, moody and suspicious, even if he did get a head start, already having Bill on his bad side. All that makes the game worth it, even if this is all business and no play, because Pine Tree is still a threat. Getting closer than ever before to cracking the codes and solving things Bill needs to keep under wraps-

But Bill finds he likes a challenge. It's been so long since anyone has gave him a good laugh and still tried to meet him on his own terms, even if the kid is young and has absolutely no clue how utterly powerless he really is. It'll be fun, yanking his chain, moving him around the chessboard. It'll be even more fun wearing him and taking him for a spin, but Bill knows to savor the journey. No point in getting ahead of himself. Just makes him hungrier for more.

Bill disintegrates the head slowly, peeling the skin and muscle and brain matter like an orange peel as Dipper stares at him in a mixture of fear and confusion, which morphs to anger when Bill laughs.

Pine Tree doesn't like being made the butt of a joke, apparently, and is smart enough to catch on, which is another point in his corner.

Yeah, that cinches it. Bill should definitely double down on buttering him up.

"The point is, I like you." Bill points, and when the kid keeps as far away as he can manage, Bill sits himself down on the edge of the ledge to try and take the wariness out of the equation, legs crossed all casual and human-style. When that doesn't garner enough of a reaction, Bill grows his arm into a contortion of 90 degree angles to nudge the kid closer. He won't bite... yet. Still. Pine Tree is so skittish it would almost be a treat, if not for the fact Bill wants to close this sucker fast.

"How's about I give you a hint, huh?"

Bill turns away from the kid and looks up, eyelid drooping lazily. He may be a flat plane, but even that expression of vulnerability has got to count for something.

"I only ask for a small..." As Bill talks, spinning a hand in the air, the want slowly creeps back in, the edge of honestly Bill can't quite quell making his voice echo and his eyes burn bright blue. "FAVOR-" His hand catches fire on autopilot as he not so sneakily gives Pine Tree a once-over, and he modulates his voice back to easygoing as he tacks on, "In return."

As much as Bill would love to mask his tells, he paces himself. Maybe he's more impatient than anticipated, but it'll still do the job.

Pine Tree actually has the audacity to point and wave a finger at him, stance widened into something more aggressive that would actually ground him in a fight, if he even had a chance. It's adorable. Pathetic, but adorable.

"I'd never do a favor for you." Dipper's voice is indignant and self-righteous, even if Bill can tell it's an act. Kid is biting his lip, and his voice keeps cracking and everything. "Don't forget who defeated you last time!"

Bill lets the projection of himself linger where it sits, and opts to scoot himself behind the very small, angry boy and give him a scare. He can't quite keep from rolling his eye, hands netted together behind his back when the other illusion fades and Dipper nearly jumps into him in his haste to jump ship.

"Hah, right." Bill snickers. Second rule of a good con: if you can't win 'em with honey, work 'em over with shame and some grandstanding of your own. Bill finger quotes as he drawls, "You defeated me."

Pine Tree inches away, hunching over and making himself smaller without even realizing as Bill takes a few tendrils and roots around in his head. Makes a little projection of his squishy little brain. Wishing he could crack it open, until he lets the image burn.

"Well, if you ever change your mind..." Bill floats lower and wraps an arm around Dipper's shoulder, pulling him closer into his orbit. Bill makes sure to clamp a hand down on the edge of the computer too, just to make the threat as obvious as the offer, but mostly because the kid is so darn serious about it. "I'll be here for you..." His opposite hand points a finger gun before Bill stretches out an arm, and then he's got a reel of a slot machine where his bowtie used to be as he pretends to dip the lever. "...Ready to make a deal." Bill sings in glee.

But Bill can tell he's losing the audience. Set off too many alarm bells, let too much eagerness slip. Seems the kid ain't desperate enough yet. But that's fine. Slow and steady wins the race.

And before the kid can collect his bearings, or accidentally trip off the edge of the platform he's stepped dangerously close to, still holding the computer away from Bill like he's going to yank it out of his hands, Bill points another finger gun with his other hand bent behind his back, blinking in excitement as he asks, "Hey, want to hear my impression of you in five seconds!"

And then Bill is screaming, arms raised like he's trapped in one of those human rollercoaster contraptions, the noise loud and startling enough to make Pine Tree jump out of his skin and wake up before he can overthink everything so hard it hurts Bill's brain, too.

The look on his face in the dream sure was something, as he fell off the side and started flailing.

\--

The next opening is not long to follow, seeing as the kid falls asleep and doesn't even know it.

Making him think the computer is going to terminate all its data, combined with Pine Tree's lack of sleep already, honestly makes Bill wonder if this is almost too easy. So easy he could... do it with an eye closed. Ha!

Bill still goes for a flashy entrance, though. The window suits him, flames and all, and he thinks the mildly occult nods in his stance might make the kid more amenable to his presence. If only because he's loved digging around for answers so much, he might not be able to help himself.

"Well, well, well..." Bill opens his eyes and lets himself in, floating off the window, blue flames disappearing as he crosses his arms behind his back. The kid's face shifts from afraid to angry again, and Bill narrows his eye. "Someone's looking desperate."

Yeah, despite the kid's pointing and distrust, judging from his expression, he's a sucker if Bill ever saw one, or he'd eat his hat.

There isn't too much to look at when he strolls farther into the room. But if he doesn't appear dispassionate, kid might get the wrong idea. Best to play it cool this time. Make him antsy by letting Pine Tree do all the work.

"Thought I told you to leave me alone." Dipper growls.

"I can help ya, kid, you just need to hear out my demands." Bill turns around and reassembles his cane, leaning forward in earnest.

Dipper makes a conflicted noise, staring at the countdown, and then glances back.

"Ah, what crazy thing do you want, anyway!" Dipper yells, gesturing towards himself. "To eat my soul?"

_Eh, it doesn't look too tasty..._

He throws up his hands. "To rip out my teeth?"

_No, but they are nice teeth..._

Pine Tree's hands spin around themselves in a frenzy as he works himself up all by his lonesome.

"Are you gonna replace my eyes with baby heads or something?" He accuses.

 _That's... Actually fairly creative_ , if Bill didn't have a longstanding loathing of babies in any form.

Boy howdy, the kid was almost there, almost right on the money. Gosh. The name of the game is rip out his soul and replace it to get new digs. Not exactly rocket science, but Bill will give him credit where it's due. Pine Tree is young and trapped in a limited dimension, after all. But Bill could get used to the litany of suggestions once he gets what's he's come for. Kid's soul was going to be floating around and trailing after him as long as Bill gets his body on tap. Might as well get used to each other if he's gonna stick around.

But Bill bunkers down and starts in on damage control. Kid has already got himself so turned around, it'll be a piece of cake to put his anxious mind to rest.

"Yeesh, kid, relax." Bill holds up his hands, then smushes down, and then raises his arms as he bounces back. "All I want is a puppet."

"A puppet?" And Pine Tree is once again thrown off the scent, although he puts his hands on his hips with narrowed eyes. "What are you playing at?"

Bill swings his arms back and forth and sways, injecting some good ol' cheer into his tone. "Everyone loves puppets." And Bill leans back on his hands, eyelid drooping, as cavalier as you please. "And it looks to me like you got a surplus." He lights up the convenient red herrings behind him for good measure, the light bathing the room in blue.

"I... I dunno, man." Dipper stammers, fears averted to instead be replaced by something else. The suspicion is all but evaporated, though, just like that. Dipper taps his foot absently, hunching his shoulders. "Mabel worked really hard on these..."

Bill floats over to the hatstand covered in the aforementioned homemade fingercovers, and Bill turns around to poke a few, like they're the most fascinating globs of glue and wool he's ever fucking seen. The eyes jiggle loosely. Real boring excuses for "puppets," really, but he supposes the fleshsuit meatsacks don't exactly have much else to work with. He can be charitable.

Bill holds up his arms and starts his spiel, rapid-fire, making sure each syllable pops.

"Seems to me one little puppet is a small price to pay to learn all the secrets of the universe..." Bill trails off.

Let the kid dig the hole he's in even deeper, like he's so good at.

Behind him, Bill sees how pale and wide eyed Dipper goes when he sees the cosmos projecting from Bill's flickering body, tantalizingly symbolic for all the things just out of his reach. Right there. Right at his finger tips... All he's gotta do is bite. Kid wants answers, but unlike his Uncle Sixer, and doesn't want it for the fame and the glory like he pretends to. He just wants to _know_. Like Bill. A kindred spirit. (Well, that and personal gain every once in a while, but he can't fault him for that, considering he's no better, nor is the rest of the Pines family. He was stuck watching them, after all. Little hard to miss all the graft, forgery, and firsthand mishaps. But the kid had good intentions, wanting to prove himself- and that's the most slippery slope of all.)

Yeah, Bill really is going to enjoy piloting him around and stopping the kid from gumming up his plans all in one go. But he'll probably be showing him what a good time really entails eventually, since he intends to keep the suit as long as he needs. And sure, he's going to break Pine Tree's spirit and torment him first, but he thinks the kid will grow on him when he has no other option. Besides, someone has to watch the show when Bill does finally deal with the Pines family. Burning them alive might be a bit overdone. Maybe he'll let them beg for each other's lives and see what he can get them to agree to...

Bill needs to stop jumping the shark while the kid seesaws, though. Keep his eyes on the prize.

Bill zooms back over next to Pine Tree, hands crossed behind his back, as he looks down as if deep in thought, and goes in for the kill.

"Besides, what's your sister done for you lately?"

Dipper turns away, gnawing on the bait like a demigorgon thrown a fresh carcass, and Bill grows larger, sifting through his memories and his head as he tacks on, "How many times have you sacrificed for her, huh? And when has she ever returned the favor?"

Maybe Bill should thank Shooting Star, actually. She made his job so easy, Bill isn't even sure this counts as a proper con. More like baiting a line and having her hook the poor kid on all by her lonesome, no other assembly required.

Dipper's eyes dart from the window and then back, but Bill can tell he's got him.

Yet... He doesn't say a word.

The countdown grows louder, and as much as Bill knows the kid is sold already, he's getting impatient. Pine Tree really does have an anxiety problem, no self confidence or certainty keeping him grounded. Someone really should help him with that.

"Tick tock, kid." Bill trills, and holds out a burning blue hand. He lets his eyes spin for good measure, counting down the seconds it takes for Pine Tree to cave for his own benefit.

"Uh, just one puppet?" Dipper makes a conflicted noise through gritted teeth, his brow all scrunched, and then he yells, "Fine!"

Kid thrust his hand out and shakes.

 _Sucker_. You'd think he'd know a con artist like the back of his hand when he lives with one... But then again, neither kid has grown wise to the real smoke and mirrors, and if Pine Tree is desperate for any positive acknowledgement, he can't exactly be feeling to close to his family, either.

Bill's pupil narrows in glee, and he has to keep himself from laughing. It's been so long since he's had a two-legged suit all to himself.

"So, what puppet are you going to pick, anyway?" Dipper asks, all nonchalant, like they're fast friends already. Probably attempting to calm himself down and prove that everything is fine.

"Hmm, let's see..." Bill rubs the bottom of his eye and savors the moment, then waggles a finger back and forth as he makes a show of things. Indecision isn't really his thing, but he never did learn not to play with his food, so to speak.

"Eeny. Meeny. Miny... YOU!" Bill's real voice echoes, deeper and louder, as the full force of his real nature bleeds through, and their minds begin to meld together as the transfer starts, one wide eye glowing red as it facilitates the circuit.

"What? AAAAH-" Dipper screams as he's ripped from his skin, flailing as he tries to interact with his ghostly self and see if he's in one piece. "This can't be happening, what did you do to my body?"

Ah. Never gets old, Bill thinks, as he rises with a smile. Kid shouldn't be so anxious, or he'll have to give him something to really worry about.

"Sorry, kid. But you're my puppet now! AHAHAHAHAHA!" Bill cackles, hurling the laptop and smashing it on the floor. Bill jumps on it for good measure, using some of that excessive force, and not caring when a few parts stab right through the soles of Pine Tree's shoes.

The body is very comfy. And also very sensitive. Pain receptors. Wow. Bill forgot what a rush those can be. Laughter also feels funny as it whooshes through those nasal cavities.

"Oh my gosh, this can't be happening," Pine Tree moans, "This can't be happening."

Bill would engage, but he's a bit more preoccupied with his shiny new toy.

"Woah, woah... Ahahaha!"

Figuring out how to walk with vertebrae takes a little trial and error, and Bill doesn't totally manage to keep the spine straight or the muscles in the exact array they need to be as he slinks over to the mirror, tripping over his new feet.

"Man, it has been so long since I've inhabited a body. Whoo!" Bill cheers as he hits the kid's face once. "Whoo! Hahaha," Then twice for good measure, intent on leaving his mark as he wiggles his fingers. "Pain is hilarious! And two eyes?"

Bill holds a hand up over one eye, testing the depth perception before enjoying both, and then he's poking the soft fleshy insides of Pine Tree's mouth.

"This thing is deluxe!" Bill stretches the skin apart, trying to see how far he can stretch the eyelids and lips. The elasticity is a bit more conservative than he's used to.

"I don't understand. Why are you doing this? I thought we had a deal?" Dipper demands, all accusative, and aw, he's actually betrayed. Guess he did warm up to you eventually. However short the occasion.

If he wasn't so keen on getting this show on the road, Bill would tell him to buck up. But he can show the kid all the mysteries he likes after he kicks the real party off good and proper. They've got time. And he's a bit preoccupied himself, ready to enjoy the perks of the puppet Pine Tree was so kind to lend him.

So he settles for showing the kid the respect he deserves... Even if he is going to yank his chain and cut him down a bit more, just to make him more malleable later.

That, and he wants to gloat first.

But credit where credit is due...

"Look, kid." Bill's voice lowers as he shrugs, "You've been getting way too close to figuring out some major answers." Bill spins his arms like Dipper did earlier, seeing how well he can pass off the mimic. He's gonna need to be able to blend in. No telling how long the con to get the portal open will actually go... "I've got big plans coming," Bill points at Dipper playfully, one arm settling on his hip, "And I don't need you getting in my way." Bill glances down at his new hands, adding, "Destroying that laptop was a cinch." And then he looks up, all sunny disposition, before putting the nail in the coffin. "Now I just need to destroy your journal!"

Bill lets him stew in horror and finishes with, "Race you to the bottom of the stairs!" Before going rigid and throwing himself down the whole flight. If the kid gets a concussion, he can patch it up later. If he doesn't throw the body out wholesale, that is...

The immediate look on Pine Tree's face, though... Yeah, worth it. Definitely worth it.

And Bill isn't quite done with him yet. He's gonna work him over, see how long it takes him to crack and give up just where he's hidden the damn things Sixer was so pathological about hiding, the ungrateful, paranoid bastard. Even if it was a little like watching an anthill catch fire and everything inside collapse as he tried to do damage control all those years ago...

But Bill supposes he can have some fun and wind the kid up a little longer before things turn all business.

Kid floats on down and follow Bill's trajectory to the kitchen in a hot second. Fast learner.

"Hey!" Pine Tree lets out a mix of confused indignation, completely off-balance and out of his element and trying to keep up a brave face.

Cold is a strange feeling, too, as the fridge squeaks open.

"Human soda." Bill muses, deciding on the closest thing on hand, and declares, "I'm going to drink it like a person! Ahahaha!"

Choking down the soda while laughing and not being able to breathe too well is a different kind of pain, still amusing, and then Bill pours some in the eyes. They might not double as a mouth like he's used to (which is really inefficient, for a design-plan, but then again, what isn't with humanity), but the stinging, burning feeling sure is something.

Kid's face is still worth it, too.

But Bill is on a mission when he makes his way to the kitchen utensil drawer.

Time to move on to more exciting things. Like the knives. And other pointy cutlery.

That, and riling the kid up is just too fun for Bill to stop entirely. It doubles as work, really, when you're coercing him to tell you what you want to know.

"So where do you keep that journal, anyway?" Bill slams the drawer on the kid's stringy arms as hard as he possibly can, tacking on, "It's gotta be around here somewhere." The borrowed eyes twitch on autopilot, something Bill also isn't used to.

Dipper regards him in stony silence.

"Boy, these arms are durable..." Bill muses, and then he sticks a few forks and knives in the tiny little blue veins.

"I've hidden it!" Dipper snarls, swooping down.

Bill props his chin up on his arms, a few forks stuck in deep and not budging, and regards the kid with a raised eyebrow as he keeps going.

"Somewhere you'll never find it in a million years!" Dipper promises.

Bill resists the urge to laugh and roll his eyes, but before he can, shrill little Shooting Star interrupts, spouting off a slew of words like a flash-flood.

While she's preoccupied, Bill hides the forks behind his back.

"Hey Dipper! I borrowedyourjournaltouseasapropintheshowIhopeyoudon'tmindI'mgonnagobeforeyouprocessthissentence, okay? BYE!" She screams and bows out with a wave.

Bill looks back at Dipper with a wide, wide grin.

So much for the bravado.

"Sure, sounds great, sister." Bill calls back, rubbing in the threat just because he can. Pine Tree might be adamant and all that, and his faces are a goldmine, but he can't forget that Bill can do whatever he wants to his family when given the chance. Best he remembers just who he's dealing with, although Bill will enjoy watching him fail and rubbing it in his face, too.

Bill licks the blood running down his arm when the kid still doesn't break eye contact, and then Bill strolls towards the door, adding, "I'll see you at the show!"

"Wait, no, Mabel, don't listen to him! That's not me-"

Shooting Star remains oblivious, and Bill enjoys watching the kid flounder as the car door shuts and half their band of misfits rev the engine and drive right through.

"You've got to hear me! No, wait, STOP!"

Dipper cowers on autopilot, not realizing he's insubstantial as smoke and the car can't hurt him.

Bill saunters over to where Dipper is, hands in his pockets, as he readies his first life lesson.

"HA! Welcome to the mindscape, kid. Without a vessel to possess, you're basically a ghost."

And he's going to stay one. Bill is gonna dispose of the kid's body and then nab his soul and carry it along once the whole portal business is taken care of. Three-dimensions in this form, while fun, aren't as liberating as having a planar body type, although it will be nice getting the material upgrade. Although Bill can't decide if he wants to drown him or pitch him off the water tower. Both could be a thrill... Maybe he'll take Shooting Star out first, though. Just because she'll never see it coming.

Then Bill is busy blending in, accepting a ride from Question Mark and mocking the kid, even as he's vowing he's going to stop him.

Bill puts him in his place, reminding him he doesn't exist, and the kid's old terrors reach another peak again.

\--

Bill files that old news away. Being powerless, being invisible, being constantly at Bill's mercy- that fear is growing stronger and stronger by the day. But he has to make sure he doesn't move too fast with it, or go too far- too much and the kid will break too much, and then it'll take ages to coax him back out into a functional consciousness again.

The next thing he stumbles on is a doozy, though, even if it's relatively useless.

Kid tried to wipe Sixer's mind. Couldn't quite keep himself from being afraid of Bill showing up, and even started getting jumpy about the nickname.

It's not much to work with, but Bill does find the fact that he made a mark that much, even that early on, gratifying.

But deep down, he knows he's also distracting himself, dragging his feet on the next venue, and he knows why.

He isn't really looking forward to watching the rest of the trainwreck.

Although, as much as being beaten by Shooting Star and kicked out of the kid's body was a downer, Bill can't say he minds that it went wrong. Still worked out for him in the long run, barring the botched finale, and throwing the kid off the water tower wouldn't be nearly as enjoyable as all the stuff he has in store for him now.

But the kid is shifting in his sleep- fucking light sleeper even after Bill put some stuff in his drink, like always, and Bill really should figure out human measurements already, and adds it to the list of tedious human-facts he's been dragging his feet on studying.

So Bill skips ahead to the places where the greatest trauma still festers. Some of his proudest achievements and his worst failures, laid out in real time.

But if you can't move on from the past, you're never going to get anywhere. You gotta pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and move on to the next perfect con of the millennia.

\--

Next up, there's Sixer, failing to shoot him and facing the consequences. Yeah, that memory still grinds Bill's gears, seeing as hindsight is 20/20. But he can't regret turning him to a walking trophy, or needling him with all their history. Sixer always did want to be acknowledged and able to be at Bill's side without any distractions before his hissy fit. Making him a prop was the best way to give him that without having to deal with all the annoyances that come with. Hell, he should be grateful that Bill was willing to keep the breakup amicable.

And then, there's good ol' Pine Tree. Trying to come to his rescue.

He hadn't realized he'd been watching the whole time, preoccupied with more important matters, but the fear and increased heartbeat spiking through the kid's system doesn't lie.

Yeah, Bill concedes the temporary payoff had been worth it. Seeing Pine Tree all riled up and horrified and worried for Sixer's safety again was always fun.

That and he even surprises him. He doesn't have a chance of being able to pull anything out of a hat and beat him, but he still tries to punch him anyway. Bill can respect that. Least Pine Tree has standards he stands for, however helpless he remains.

He watches himself taunt the kid again before blowing him off and moving on to more immediate plans, letting Eight Ball and Teeth give the kid some exercise.

Remembers his exact thought process of, _hey, if he survives being eaten, then we'll reconvene and I'll offer up an actual prize. Based on past precedent, Pine Tree should be scrappy enough to get through this. You have faith._

And if he doesn't, Bill can always nab his soul, thanks to the link he has to his mind, and then make him watch his family disintegrate after the world has been liberated and dealt with. And maybe then throw him in his own personal bubble to relive the moment or something...

But that can wait. First Earth's gotta learn to party.

\--

Yeah, giving the kid an honest chance really is where everything went wrong. Bill isn't making that mistake again. But he can't really fault himself for the optimism. It's a good skill to have. But he got cocky, and he can't let that drag him a third time. This time, he's got to put the money where his mouth is and go for gold... To really find the devil in the details and stick to it. No stone unturned. Bill is gonna get back on top, and Pine Tree is his ticket to winning.

Bill glides into another section of Pine Tree's latent subconscious, trying not to let his own bitterness get to him. He's on the up and up. No use bemoaning the past. And he has way more perks now-

Aha! There it is. The sweet spot. The little portion linked up to Pine Tree's amygdala and his dreaming recollections that connects the memories to the kid's emotions at the time, and his long term memory. All those pesky details that Bill is all too happy to warp and twist to his purposes after studying the topography. As soon as Bill stumbles in on the neurons that show Dipper's feelings and memories directly, he's going to know exactly what makes the kid tic.

And then he'll see how much he can hold out, with Bill personally handling his newest protege with all the careful handling he can muster. It's going to be Bill's best work yet- wrapping him around his finger, making him obedient and worshipping him all of his own free will. But he's got to get into the kid's deepest insecurities and fears, and Bill knows he's already front and center in that reel.

He just needs to figure out if he should maim him more often, show more teeth, or if he needs to double down on the intermittent reinforcement and gentle treatment to get the right balance of results. Fucking his brains out does half the job, but it's not going to break the kid all on its lonesome.

(It has been a long time since Bill has tried to seduce someone, after all. Lust is pretty straightforward, even if it's not Bill's favorite vice. But actually making someone want your approval and love when they hate your guts, that's something else entirely.)

It's going to be Bill's best work yet. For all their base natures, humans do take careful handling not to break. Catching that balance, and twisting Pine Tree to his purposes before making him into something entirely new? That takes a kind of restraint and patience Bill has been neglecting. But the payoff will be worth it- it always is, when working them over and drawing out the climax.

And if Pine Tree does keep that rebellious streak, well... Bill's been around the block more than his fair share, and he knows not to throw away something good, now that he's ready to settle down and show him the multitudes of world's Sixer and Fez and Shooting Star could hardly even fathom, with their limited constraints on dimensional travel. And Bill won't complain if his newest squeeze keeps the stubborn defiance he's always had. It'll make the challenge that much more rewarding when he does break him, and Bill won't pretend he doesn't find it endearing and fun when showing Pine Tree his place on the totem pole.

\--

The next memory Bill picks apart is how the kid broke his perfect trap for his sister. While that had been a wash, it did help him figure out how to patch up his blind spots. And he will admit, watching the kid's fantasy just confirmed suspicions he'd held about things he could manipulate him with already. It does put a bandaid on one's bruised ego to know he was still right...

Even if he'll have to use the kid's more adult concerns and temptations and new tastes to build up those foundations and really get him under his thumb.

\--

"Who am I kidding? Maybe Mabel was right. It's a horror show out there. Least the air here is breathable..." Dipper sighs.

"Dude, you're talking to a river." The construct of Wendy interrupts, sitting down next to him.

"Oh, hey Wendy. What's up?" Dipper glances up only to look down again, fidgeting with the grass. "I thought you were busy wrecking the school or whatever."

"Yeah, that got old quick. And this music is really starting to really get on my nerves. I think the stuff you said about this place is right."

 _Wanting to be right and acknowledged and appreciated, check._ Kid is old reliable when it comes to that. Might as well add that to the grab-bag of tricks to make more a part of the repertoire. Actually, Bill amends, he should probably just compliment Pine Tree far longer when busy fucking him senseless nowadays, seeing as Bill knows he's into it and it'll only help throw him off when alternating between pain and pleasure.

"Really? Well, now we just need a plan." Dipper muses, and there's the other nervous tics- planning for miles and falling apart the minute the winds change to instead improvise by the skin of his teeth. Maybe the kid just likes the word plan, because it hides just how much he leaps into the thick of things and his own spontaneous, not-too-thought-out habits. Bill jots it down lazily, another layer of denial for perusal at a later date...

"Don't worry, you always think of something." Fake-Wendy says.

_If only that were true, Pine Tree. If only that were true._

Fake-Wendy starts singing the kid's praises, listing off all the ways she likes being around him. Sure, it was partly a crush on the kid's part, but it was more than just that. Pine Tree wants validation, wants to feel like he can be himself without worrying about all the consequences, having not quite settled in his skin yet, with so much of a long road ahead of him. He wants to be seen as a man, as a good person, as a friend who wouldn't be abandoned or left out... Being a dream guy means a lot of things, especially since Wendy was the coolest girl the kid ever knew. Acceptance from her? That meant more than just a childhood crush, and the kid realized that eventually. And wanting to be older, wanting to be more grown up- that's part of Pine Tree not being where he wants to be. Not just growing old or not having transitioned, or still feeling thin and twiggy and with curves starting to develop in the wrong places, still feeling like his life was not under his control... It's about being respected. About feeling like he finally fits inside his skin and can breathe. It's the fact that the kid also doesn't know who could love him- that if Wendy does, he might find it one day. That he won't be alone or an outcast or merely tolerated. He's so bound up in his own head, the fear eats him alive.

He wants to be grown up to be himself and to avoid the scary things in between. Even if his brain doesn't know how to quantify it entirely, especially since the nature of Shooting Star's prison means her mind won't allow it to delve into more specificity. Shooting Star wasn't privy to the graphic, more agonizing pain Pine Tree kept under lock and key, so much so that even when in the loop about Pine Tree being trapped in the wrong body that Shooting Star didn't realize half the time when her teasing hit too close to home. But her prison wasn't going to allow more nuance or details to manifest with her brother- not when it isn't his mind being the focal point. Not when he was trying to hide so much, even from her. There were limits to the illusion. And that's something Bill keeps in mind for next time- if he's going to design something airtight, it's gotta be tailored to Pine Tree directly. No loopholes. No blindspots...

And then it all crumbles. Fake Wendy dissipates into bugs (a smaller, less relevant phobia) as Pine Tree panics about the whole setup being real.

There it is. The kid's other Achilles' heel, hiding right under Bill's nose.

He can't accept being happy or content. He's too anxious, too suspicious. Too used to there being a catch.

So what will getting everything he wants actually do to him? What kind of trap can Bill lace that the kid latches on and can't let go, because he can't go back to that life again?

Bill's old influence seeps through, spying on him through his own design and from the tiny little anchor he has peeking through Pine Tree's own head, having inhabited his old puppet and not ever fully gone, the two things coinciding. Pine Tree has a strong will. But his is stronger. His influence is everywhere.

And that's when Bill realizes exactly what paradox he hadn't accounted for, way back when, in the trap that wasn't quite so foolproof.

The prison worked too little and too much, at the same time. The trap reveals all the ugly truth underneath, because deep down, Pine Tree didn't want paradise. He wants the truth, and only the truth. To get to the bottom of things.

(And Bill will oblige. He can give Pine Tree that much, even if he might grow to regret it.)

"You shouldn't have done that, Dipper." Bill's lingering influence booms through the trees, his eyes lighting up the shadows. "We're watching you."

The sky turns red and bloody, and the surrounding area inky shadows clawing at Dipper's feet, as Bill's many other eyes croon, "We have eyes everywhere."

Dipper runs.

Bill leaves the memory alone, still rethinking some old classics and the logistics he can play with.

\--

After that, Bill goes to some old haunts. While watching the kids try to get Sixer back isn't his favorite memory reel to re-watch, the kid winds up here a lot. Bill chasing them down and crushing them in his hands and threatening to kill his sister and the rest of the Pines was something he never got over.

So Bill kicks his feet back and waits. Pine Tree always ends up in the same place by the end.

Trying to shield Shooting Star from the inevitable disintegration ray.

Bill always was going to gun for her. She really knew how to rile a guy up, even if Pine Tree was always the culprit when it came to enabling her. (Although, honestly, everyone did.)

Bill supposes she could've had her chance to grow on him, with her chaotic ways, if only she didn't have a penchant for ruining his best feature.

Outside the dream, Pine Tree is starting to toss and turn a little, so the sleep paralysis is definitely going to wear off sooner rather than later.

\--

"Is there a reason you've decide to take a trip down memory lane?" Pine Tree asks, still groggy. The mindscape fades to more neutral ground, now that he's actively monitoring Bill's presence and finally lucid enough to crash the party. He's still wrapped up in the existential fear rooted in all the other, later traumas that followed, all the ways his sister is gone, forever linked to this moment even if Bill had nothing much to do with her tragic circumstances.

Bill hooks the kid with his arm and pulls him into his orbit.

"I can't be nostalgic?"

Dipper doesn't bother to argue, and shifts, tracing the scars on his arm absently.

Bill admires his old handiwork. It really does look good on him. Maybe he should stick a few more forks in, next time the kid gets mouthy-

"Bill... How were you able to stay alive?" Pine Tree finally manages. Uncertain, though. The conditioning does seem to be accomplishing small miracles, however limited they are.

"Now, why ever would I tell you-"

"You already own me." Dipper cuts him off, and there's the flash in his eyes and the grit of his jaw like Bill is used to, all the meekness getting cast to the wayside. "You already can get everything you want. All I'm asking for is answers."

 _You know, like you promised once,_ Dipper doesn't say. But Bill can't quite contradict him, all the emotions laid bare.

Bill twirls his cane.

"You're a smart cookie, Pine Tree. Maybe you should put those big brains to use-"

"Was it my fault?" Dipper asks, instead.

Bill goes quiet.

So the kid isn't as much of a blockhead these days. Which is to be expected, seeing as he ain't a kid anymore, either, but that's not gonna stop Bill with the nicknames. He is a lot older, after all, and humans are weird about their tiny lifespans.

"What makes you think that?" Bill hedges. While he'd rather not spill the beans directly in case Pine Tree gets any ideas... He can't help himself. The minute the kid realizes, it's gonna be easy to work him over. Well, easier than it already is.

Pine Tree swallows and stays silent, and Bill tries another tack.

"I mean it, kid." He coaxes, amiable as ever. "Your theories might give me a good laugh."

Dipper doesn't meet his eyes. But he always did get chatty when nervous. That habit hasn't changed.

"Vaporizing you in Stan's head didn't erase you." He says, oh-so-carefully.

Bill rolls his eye, scoffing, "Obviously."

"So the only other things that make sense are you went back to the Dreamscape, which we checked, afterwards... Or you had some other anchor you could reach. And out of all of us, the only person I know you have both the ability and past precedent to possess is me. Our deal didn't end, did it? When Stan tricked you, you got kicked out, and I'm guessing you couldn't slip back in my head on your own. Not until something pushed you out with no where else to go."

Dipper doesn't say: is that why I felt like I'm being watched my whole life? Is that why I kept hearing your laughter in my dreams? When I had nightmares, were you there, watching?

But he doesn't have to say anything.

He can see the truth from way Bill's pupil thins, from the teeth peeking out around the cornea, from the way his form crinkles.

Bill floats on over, eye drawing level with Dipper's own.

"Took you long enough."

The gentleness of the words contrasts with the way he grabs hold of the nape of Dipper's neck, in the way he puts an arm around him, in all the ways he can see the light dimming in his eyes.

Bill has been waiting for this day ever since he got swindled.

Waiting for the kid to see he was never really free.

But deep down, Bill thinks, the kid already knew that. It's why he kept running away. Avoiding the only place he ever called home once it was all that was left, and hiding from his loved ones so they couldn't get hurt by proxy.

"You're not quite on the ball about one thing, though. I would've been stuck floating around in the dreamscape, trapped in solitary and cut off from anyone else's head, until I found your spongy little noggin' and settled down. I couldn't have Sixer catching me, but luckily your brain was ripe for the picking. Well, that, and you missed the part where I put on quite the show. Had to make it real convincing, once I realized what you Pines were up to. But I must've faked my death pretty well, if none of you caught on. But you, Pine Tree... You had an inkling, I know you did. But denial has always been one of your greatest strengths. Second to all those little nervous tics you got."

Initially, Bill had thought all this was a small consolation prize for losing the big war, he'll admit the arrangement is winning him over. Pine Tree growing up gave Bill a whole new slew of possibilities to entertain, and it's not like he can't kill the poor sap for fun and bring him back for funsies, almost like he'd planned back in the day. (The deal did say a new life. It didn't say how many. And the kid is getting better about the whole worship thing, or at least staying in line. Keeping Pine Tree on his toes just means he'll be more receptive to softer approaches later, which Bill is finding even more amusing as time goes on, especially when combined with all the other perks he can wring out of him.)

And with the Pines family at the mercy of Bill just by holding on tighter and not letting go...

It's almost like he's getting revenge already served up on a platter.

But finding out that he doesn't mind Pine Tree's company or keeping him around, all while the kid drowns in his own guilt and loss and loneliness while subject to his every whim, that's just the true icing on the cake.


	5. Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title a song by Halsey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is like, 3 chapters ahead I just haven't reposted the drafts that go in between
> 
>   
> it's done now

Dipper is exhausted, bruised, and shot from all the dimension-hopping. And as much as he'd love to do something to fix this, he doesn't know what Bill is looking for, the demon bizarrely quiet and pensive as images flash through him like a hologram. Whatever he's up to, Dipper can't keep a coherent thought long enough to even parse the symbols and sights zooming past at breakneck speed.

It doesn't take long for Dipper to actually fall asleep, despite everything.

Bill keeps him tucked on the edge of the bed, arms and tentacles circled around him.

\--

A few hours later, Bill settles himself closer in between Dipper's legs, sliding one elongated limb in and out between them absently. A few other tentacles knead into his calves, keeping the dead weight of his spread legs from shifting around too much. Tight enough to leave a mark, but not to cut off blood flow. Bill can afford to be gentle tonight, if things go his way. Rewarding good behavior will only make the lessons stick more when he decides to flay him or make his mark, not sure if he's going to brand him or scar him up gradually.

Fucking Pine Tree while he's just this shy of conscious to feel it but not quite awake yet is a different kind of rush. Kid isn't antsy or shaky or flinching. He's warm and wet and his legs are loose and open right around Bill's fingers. Like he's welcoming Bill in.

It's almost a self-soothing habit, something he does on autopilot while preoccupied while keeping an eye on more distant places and juggling logistics for three other potential projects.

It's not that Bill's one for getting warm and fuzzy. (Feelings are worthless, and romantic overtures are just a lie humans tell themselves to feel better about their carnal needs. Not that Bill is exactly complaining- those needs do suit his purposes, and, in this case, he does find the whole arrangement he has with Pine Tree a welcome and distracting relaxation tactic while he works a few more kinks out in his long term plans.)

It's nice to be appreciated, and he likes being the center of attention. And having so much power, being the one anchor constantly defining Pine Tree's small, mortal world, while not groundbreaking, is something Bill wouldn't trade for anything.

Even if it's a frivolous, small little detail in the grand scheme of things.

But aside from all that, it's nice, knowing the kid can't help but want him when he doesn't have all the shields up.

That he's all his.

And he doesn't get to pretend otherwise.

Sometimes, it also even serves as a challenge. If there's anything Bill has learned from his past failures to keep Pine Tree's body under his control, it's that he's ridiculously sensitive. This is both a blessing and curse. It makes him all too responsive and far weaker to Bill's touch, but those human body spasms he was so prone to also mean Bill has to be careful not to jostle him awake. And being a dream demon, Bill prides on being able to keep his targets asleep until inclined otherwise. He's not some fucking amateur.

Pine Tree moans, pulling Bill out of his musings, and he shifts from his usual form to something more practical.

He can ditch the big picture plans for now, seeing as this activity is much less of a headache.

And he won't knock an opportunity.

The kid is so well-behaved when he's not able to lie to himself and overthink things.

And Bill, deep down, finds he likes being wanted.

\--

Everything around Dipper is dark and warm. He sinks down into it, like falling asleep with his head above water in a bath.

There's a hand stroking his face. Another runs through his hair, and is soon joined by more.

Dipper chases the feeling.

It feels good. So, so good.

Dipper nuzzles against the fingers brushing against the crook of his throat. In response, a few other fingers glide over the edge of Dipper's mouth, glancing over his tongue before withdrawing to caress his jawline. More join them, sliding over Dipper's pulse point and the sensitive patches below his ear, then his sideburns and beard.

The hands on his pulling ever so slightly, tips of the fingers massaging his scalp and down the back of his neck. Other hands stroke up his arms, interlock their fingers with his own, squeezing his shoulderblades and sliding over the small of his back before heading lower...

Dipper shivers, and makes a noise of protest when the contact ends.

As if on cue, it all starts again, teasing, more tentative, rising in intensity ever so slowly. There's a palm rubbing against his chest, a thumb circling the nubs of his nipples before tracing the raised weal of his scars, and going down, down, down, fingers stroking the sensitive skin over Dipper's hipbones.

Heat wafts as a mouth breathes against his throat. A tongue licking up Dipper's Adam's apple, and teeth start nibbling his earlobe.

More fingers rise up like a wave, gradually increasing contact as they stroke his ankle and swarm farther up Dipper's legs, lightly raking over his hair and poking the sensitive skin under his knees. More contact thumbs over the back of his calves and draws circles up the inside of his thighs. Dipper twitches, opening his stance wider.

An open palm slides over his cock, lightly rubbing underneath the head, then closing over it and tugging slowly.

And then there's something warm and firm opening him up so gently and so carefully, that when it pushes in, Dipper can't help but sigh.

It slowly sinks deeper. The contact insistent. Uneven. Gliding in and out, pushing up farther, sometimes not moving at all.

Dipper whines, feeling so very empty when it's gone.

There's a rumble in the distance, frequency of the sound deep enough to make Dipper's inner ear rattle, but low enough of a volume to be barely audible.

Soon it turns to a voice, right against Dipper's ear.

_"You need this. Need it so bad. Just let me take care of you..."_

Dipper tries to scoot down, but can't move to make more contact, still blanketed by the soft shadows around him, always at the mercy of whenever the tendril rocks in again.

The faint sound of suction pops whenever its catches the entrance of Dipper's cunt, it's ridged edges wider at the tip, dragging slower and steadier whenever Dipper jerks, grunting, trying to match it's thrusts.

The hand over Dipper's cock keeps going, increasing the pace. Harder, faster.

_"Yes. That's it. There you go. Just like that."_

The pressure increases, and the contact of fingers and tendrils touch down everywhere, sliding over every exposed opening and point of naked skin.

Dipper bucks harder, gasping, shivering all over.

_" You're doing so good... Being so, so very good for me..."_

The hand over Dipper's cock recedes, only for a tongue to wrap around, licking longer strokes, before the hand is back and the tongue shifts lower.

Dipper bites down too hard and tastes blood, but he spreads his legs wider, crying out until his throat feels rubbed raw.

_"You're so perfect... So fragile... So helpless..."_

One wraps around his throat as the things inside of him pushes all the way in, again and again and again.

And Dipper arches, suffocating in an endless sea of hands.

\--

Dipper rouses with a groan, blinking. Wide eyes still glazed over, his pupils blown, and both legs twitching as he stays sprawled out on his back.

Dipper heaves in a lungful of air, before he registers exactly where he is.

Bill smiles down at him, his multiple mouths all teeth, body a red blur taking up the whole room.

"You like that?" He asks. One black eye stares, unblinking, yellow pupil beady and thin. "I can give you good dreams, every once in a while."

Dipper immediately closes his panting mouth, swallows, and crawls backwards as best he's able. All that manages to do is bend his knees more before Bill pushes a few tentacles up inside him again, one hand still rubbing circles over his dick.

Dipper attempts to close his legs.

Bill's voice stops him short.

"No need to be so shy, Pine Tree. It's not like it's anything I haven't seen before."

Dipper immediately starts flailing and tries to throw himself off the bed. He doesn't care if this is a fight he can't win. This is about more than that. This is just basic instinct, and the only sliver of self-control he can pretend he still has.

More tentacles dart over to pick him up. Bill turns Dipper over on to his stomach, more hands wrapping around his wrists and binding them behind his back, Bill's other limbs repositioning his legs.

Dipper bucks and writhes, teeth bared.

"Look, kid, you were doing real good. Don't ruin it." Bill's voice gains an edge.

Dipper finds his voice.

"Let me go." Dipper snarls. His pupils are tiny pinpricks, the whites of his eyes blown wide.

"Let me think about that." Bill rolls his eye, which flashes red, as he pretends to deliberate. "No."

"Please let me go." Dipper's voice starts to give as Bill's hand slides under his chin.

"Pine Tree, you're really trying my patience, here..."

A few fingers press up inside Dipper again, and he wheezes.

"Look, I'll do whatever you want. Just stop touching me-"

"I'll touch you however I-"

That makes Bill pause.

"Whatever I want? You really mean that?"

Dipper freezes, and then nods, gathering himself into a ball as the limbs withdraw and the contact ends.

"HAHAHA. Wow, Pine Tree." Bill shrinks back down, holding his sides and fake-wiping a tear away and, before his arms elongate and corral Dipper to the edge of the bed where it meets the wall. "And here I thought it would take a few more months to get you to stop holding out on me. You really know how to make a shape blush..."

Dipper can't help but stare at Bill, frozen, every syllable Bill speaks ringing through his bones, no matter how taunting and easygoing he pretends he is. Bill is all business, where it counts. There's an edge Dipper recognizes anywhere.

"Okay, I'll stop touching your soft, squishy little insides like this for tonight..."

Dipper lets out a whine as Bill wrenches his legs apart again, one warm, round-edged tendril tugging him closer every time it fucks in before Bill finally stops, leaves Dipper dizzy, gasping on his hands and knees, hunched in over himself, and all too aware of his aching cock and the suddenly cold, wet, slippery feeling stuck between his thighs...

"-If you can put on a real good show of following directions for me." Bill licks the tendril before it morphs back into a hand. "Deal?"

"Deal." Dipper breathes. His hands are balled into fists as he tries to slow his breathing, half-clutching the bedsheets like it's his last line of defense.

The glint of Bill's eye is rapt enough to make the hair on Dipper's neck rise, the animal part of himself feeling like he's drowning and faced with something too inhuman and alien and unknowable to function...

"Alright, how about..." Bill trails off. The once-over he gives Dipper can only be quantified as trouble.

Dipper braces himself, preparing for the worst. Asking to set himself on fire, or letting Bill flay him, or making him cut off his ears, or eat his eyeballs...

"You kiss me."

Dipper inhales sharply, and blinks.

"I'm sorry?" Dipper's confusion is more than just palpable, his nervous circling thoughts derailed like a runaway train crashing into an ocean.

Bill crosses his arms, one eye half-lidded.

"You heard me. Pucker up, tough guy." A hand cards through Dipper's hair as he leans in, one eye blinking slowly as he glows, "Teach me how you temporally limited, three dimensional skinpuppets show that emotion you call 'affection.'" Bill finger-quotes, adding, "And don't try short-changing me. I'll know if you're phoning it in..."

Bill's eye morphs into a mouth, the colors he radiates making dots appear over Dipper vision.

Dipper blinks, licks his lips, and goes for it.

It starts off gentle.

Dipper tries to keep it together. Tries to think of some way to make it real, to turn his hatred of this monster to something that will make this coerced partnership bearable...

Bill, for his part, doesn't push. He lets Dipper lead, which is a bit of a learning curve, seeing as his mouth is almost the size of Dipper's head.

So Dipper does the only thing he can do- he closes his eyes, and improvises.

As far as selling it, Dipper knows the tools of the trade. To make a successful con or lie, to really make something feel real, there's gotta be a real truth you can cling to. Something that can't be denied. So he takes all his real emotions: the hate, the hurt, the fear, his need for self-preservation, and then the uglier ones he wishes weren't there, too. The constant feeling of loneliness and being adrift and not being understood and yet Bill understands, Bill sees, and while he loathes him for it, Dipper has always felt him watching, felt him scratching in the back of his head, never alone, and in some ways, it's the only comfort Dipper has, with everything else in pieces-

And Dipper takes his desperation- he needs Bill, he needs his family back, and Bill can give him that, and deep down that even darker part of himself that somehow wants this, even as it doesn't, the part of him that genuinely likes it when Bill compliments him or gives him the things he craves even as he's touched starved, even when he doesn't want it from him, and all those twisted ways he does from those dreams he knows Bill must've seen if he didn't outright have a hand in- and he lets that be his guide. And Dipper allows that fear of being totally lost with no anchor take him over and his need to be loved and touched and observed to take the wheel, to seal the deal, because for all the things he has lost, Bill was always there, for better or worse, and now, if he has his way, forever...

And for all the ways Bill has disrespected and hurt and utterly destroyed him, Dipper lets that relief of never being seen through, never being invisible, never being alone, keep him from losing his mind.

Dipper lets his tongue probe the seam of Bill's lips, then past the rows of teeth hidden beneath their exterior.

As the kiss deepens, Dipper pointedly doesn't move when two hands wrap around his waist and pull him closer. As far as touching goes, it's tame, like an afterthought, and Dipper isn't sure Bill is entirely aware he's doing it.

Bill, oddly enough, tastes a little like strawberries. Mostly like sulfur and teeth and tongue, but there's something sugary and sweet and wet and if Dipper lets himself really go he almost feels... Well, not human. Definitely not that in any capacity. But like a person. Like something not quite so different as Bill otherwise is, in every single way.

Bill, for his part, is uncharacteristically still and dead silent. No extra limbs prickling or crawling all over Dipper. Just the sharp, slanted edge digging into Dipper's shoulder and a mouth pressing against his, and a tongue barely touching the underside of Dipper's own. (Dipper isn't exactly an expert with the whole tongue thing, and suspects Bill doesn't fully know what he's supposed to either, considering he's the only human Bill ever took an interest in... exploring. Aside from him, Dipper has only ever been kissed by someone else with tongue once, and it was messy and unpleasant and fumbling. That's why Dipper tried for slow, for his sake as much as Bill's. The last thing he needs is Bill getting the wrong idea and making unasked for kisses even more unpleasant forever...)

When Dipper finally pulls back to breathe, Bill half-shoves him against the headboard to get another taste, tongue exploring Dipper's mouth a little more roughly, like he wants to taste every molecule, before he sprawls Dipper out over his lap, spread-eagle, Dipper's head nested in what could be the closest equivalent to Bill's elbow. The biting, while expected, is barely noticeable, like Bill is actually trying to be soft and gentle and not some kind of hellish, interdimensional eldritch shape with extra limbs and mouths and teeth.

Dipper coughs when he's finally able to resurface for air.

Bill laughs, the sound always loud and grating, but more jarring and exaggerated than usual, like this is the best joke he's witnessed since the extinction of the dinosaurs or something, like he's putting up a front-

Dipper shivers, still tasting sulfur and blood and something chalky like teeth.

One hand keeps stroking the small of Dipper's back, almost like he doesn't even realize...

With a sinking feeling, Dipper stumbles on the truth, one that he can't deny even though he'd much rather do anything else. As much as he wants to think it's a sick joke, as much as Dipper knows who and what Bill really is, Dipper is also someone who cuts to the heart of things, and his own gut feelings and the way Bill looks at him, or the way he pointedly doesn't, are too much to deny what's right in front of him.

Bill is lonely.

Bill is a sadistic, possessive, manipulative, homicidal trigger-happy pathological liar, who enjoys stalking as a past-time and gets off on other people's pain and purposefully pushes boundaries and doesn't bother to quantify or respect human emotions, nevermind consent or autonomy, and yet...

Bill likes talking to him. Bill is fond of playing pranks, violent or otherwise, of making him react just to watch his expressions, and yanking him around wherever the wind takes him, when he could be doing absolutely anything else...

Bill has feelings for him.

Bill has some kind of alien equivalent of feelings for _him,_ however sick and twisted, and worse, the evil, almost-omniscient jackass doesn't even realize it.

And Dipper knows absolutely none of that is going to spare him anything. If anything, it's only going to make this mess that much worse. Sure, he's managed to talk down assholes from realizing you can't force people to love you before. That doesn't change that he knows convincing Bill Cipher of that fact is going to be anywhere near feasible.

"You look a little dazed, kid. What's eating you, all of a sudden?"

"Nothing." Dipper says, trying to school his face into something impassive. "Absolutely nothing."

"Careful, Pine Tree. Say that with too much enthusiasm and I might just think you're up to something-"

Dipper cuts him off. Presses the tiniest of closed-mouth kisses to Bill's blinking eyelid and then withdraws.

For once, Bill is speechless.

Part of Dipper- the vindictive, angry part, the part that wants to turn Bill to stone with no way out for all eternity, the part of himself with dignity left- is triumphant, with his working hypothesis confirmed.

If Bill wants to play games... Dipper is going to win.

The rest of Dipper's mind panics. Because he knows exactly what he's up against, and there is no way this is going to end well for anyone, and the last thing he wants to do is encourage him.

Even if the one rational part of Dipper left knows there's nothing he can do either way. Bill is going to do whatever he wants with him, whether Dipper tries to worm his way into his good graces or not.

The only thing Dipper can do is withstand him and lie low and keep Bill guessing while he tries to find a way out of a situation he knows Bill had a hand in orchestrating, because he wanted to make a deal too much, if only to get Dipper under his thumb all over again.

If only to feel in control again.

(And Dipper wishes he didn't understand that. He wishes he didn't see exactly why Bill is so fixated on him, when there's so many other things he could focus on.)

Part of Dipper keeps on drowning, not knowing what else to do, and the part of Dipper that can only cling to self-preservation just wants to make it stop at any cost.

Even if it means he is slowly starting to get used to this.

Even if that terrifies him.

Bill licks his eye clean, the hand not on Dipper's back settling on his thigh as he murmurs, "If that's what all your bright ideas are going to turn into, I could get used to that."

Bill doesn't touch him anywhere else or move for the rest of the night.

Dipper takes a long, long time being able to fall asleep.

(Bill notices, and smiles. It isn't reassuring.)


	6. The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still incomplete, it's a bridge chapter.
> 
> Chapter title a song by Colter Wall.

"It's uncharted waters from here on out. You, me. And the great beyond. Let's get a move on. Wouldn't want our window to close forever..."

\--

Dipper, as a rule, isn't easily disturbed by most things. World hopping does not generally faze him- he's seen far too much.

And when not pursuing evidence of the paranormal throughout his life, both before and after the loss of his family, he had still lived through many experiences that left him with a distinct go-with-the-flow attitude. (That, and there's only so many times you can run or hide from monsters only to have Stan or Mabel jump out from behind you, memories which, instead of inducing fear, only makes Dipper angry and completely intimidated by any current outside threats, still consumed by their loss.)

There is one thing that does give Dipper pause. Three, really, although they all fall under the same umbrella: anything to do with Bill and the small details lingering from his influence in Dipper's memories and dreams. (Dipper still can't stomach tri-flavored popsicles, thanks to the disintegration of Mabel-Land and other nightmares he's sure Bill had a hand in.) 

The other main fear is puppets in any form.

But travelling through the nightmare realm... That dredges things up... Particularly when Bill is his travel partner.

(It does not change the fact that Dipper takes after Grunkle Stan when it comes to his honed first instincts.

Punch any surprises first, while screaming, and run later. It used to be the other way around, but life has a way of making one adapt.)

\--

Bill observes the less-than-flattering statue of himself, especially the inscription.

"'That guy was the worst,' huh?" He says, tone dangerously mind. The fingers tapping on his nonexistent hips are seconds away from either setting something on fire or turning someone inside out. "I guess you can't really count on fair weather friends..." He trails off, and then looks to the horizon, where some very bizarre and some very familiar silhouettes are slowly lumbering or flying into view.

(Dipper thinks they should have scattered, really. But the former members of Bill's posse and whoever else lives here are entirely unaware of their peril.)

\--

When they get back from the portal, Bill makes margaritas. He plies Dipper with three, even though they both know he's a fucking lightweight and will go down after one.


	7. Oh Klahoma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title a song by Jack Stauber.

"Where's Grunkle Stan?"

"We got separated when making the jump. The force flung us apart when the portal opened. Dipper, how-"

"Oh, don't lose your head, Sixer. I've been taking real good care of him while you and your brother were gone."

\--

"You know, I really should thank you, Sixer. If it wasn't for your fledgling crush, I probably wouldn't have entertained this as an option for another eon or so. But solitary confinement really does make you crave a lot more human contact. It really got the gears turning. On an unrelated note..."

Bill extends an arm and pulls Dipper towards him.

"We'd appreciate some privacy. I promised Pine Tree I was going to lay him out on every flat surface in this house, and we haven't covered the kitchen yet."

\--

"Dipper, if you ever need to talk-"

Dipper doesn't look at Ford, and keeps kicking out from the edge of the porch.

"I'm fine."

"Dipper..." Ford sighs. "Just because you've been saying that for years doesn't mean it's true. Please. Just let me help-"

"And what exactly are you going to be able to do?"

"Yeah, what ARE you going to pull, old man? I mean, even if you did put a metal plate in the kid's skull, it's not going to stop me, thanks to that wonderful deal he was oh so kind to take me up on. Worst it would do is lock me inside his head without any way out. And you wouldn't want to do that to him. Both the kid and I need our space sometimes, however fun his company remains."

\--

"Isn't it obvious? You liked me right off the bat. You were an easy mark, Fordsy, so overeager and ready to please until we had our falling out. But the kid here? Immediate dislike. Good instincts. Whereas you were a fawning syncopate before you finally grew a spine, he actually almost saw right through me. Only reason he was slow was he was too young to know any better. See, I respect Pine Tree. I really do. As much as I can respect your species, anyway. But it'll be far more rewarding having the kid catch feelings, with all his baggage and fear and hate. He's been a real trooper-"

"Is that why you're targeting him? Because it's amusing? Because it's a challenge?"

"I mean, they're all good perks. But it's not just that. The kid is pretty affectionate- grudgingly, sure. But he's full of surprises, and that helps his case. Not to mention making your family watch him suffer is going to be fun, too. Especially when he asks for it. I can't WAIT. So don't go ruining this for me."

\--

Dipper stares at the turkey drawn on his hand in sharpie in silence, and some level of bemusement.

"You were looking kinda glum. So I figured I'd try to get a good laugh out of you. Put a smile on your face. I'm not out to get ya, kid. I'm only trying to help you."

"How is this helping?"

"Being on my good side is never a bad thing, Pine Tree. I'm the winning team, whatever you might think. And if you're stuck with me, then I can let you share the glory... If you play your part."

Dipper glowers.

"And what exactly is my part?" He growls.

Bill's fingers glide under the edge of Dipper's chin, before he materializes on Dipper's opposite side, mushed close to his face, eye-to-eye.

"You're a smart guy. Figure it out."

\--

"I've decided your dimension is unworthy of my liberation. You can keep your primitive life forms. But you and me, kid, and that family of yours? We're going to be expanding into the great unknown. That's what you are all good at, right? Uncloaking mysteries? Interdimensional hijinks? Aggressively setting stuff on fire?"

"The last ones more you." Ford mutters.

Bill waves him off, his grip tightening around Dipper's arm.

"Don't knock my genius."

\--

Dipper wakes up to a triangle nestling it's sort-of-combination-head-body-eye into his chest, noodle arms double-wrapped around his waist.

"Bill, what are you doing?" Dipper finally asks, scared to move in case he starts eating his ribcage or something. He can feel Bill's eye blink against his sternum once.

Bill's echoing voice sounds muffled.

"I'm attempting your human ritual of cuddling. Am I doing it wrong?"

Dipper relaxes as much as he can, shifting so Bill's top hat doesn't poke uncomfortably into his throat.

"No."

"You sound real confident about that, Pine Tree."

"It's just... unexpected." Dipper settles on, not wanting to rock the boat or have the tides shift out from under him.

Bill's tone remains clinical and curiously detached.

"Look, you can give me some credit. I am trying to make you feel comfortable. Like, human-loved or whatever."

Dipper can honestly say this is the weirdest experience he's ever had, and he's experienced so many weird and paranormal things.

But part of him just wants to fall back asleep and let things lie.

There are far worse things Bill could be doing, and too many other things Dipper doesn't feel like worrying about.


	8. Devil Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title a song by Rainbow Kitten Surprise.
> 
> I'm posting the unfinished drafts for my benefit right now and no one can stop me. Spoilers.

The humid haze of the blue-tinged world gives way to a shadow. A shadow connected to an orange light bathing the immediate fog in it's glow, at odds with the rest of the place.

Dipper narrows his eyes, Bill lazily floating next to him with an upturned hand, ready to rend any potential enemies with a flick of his wrist, and still obscured by their surroundings.

The shadowed silhouette soon turns into something more recognizable, however, the minute the gruff voice calls out into the emptiness.

"Dipper?"

"Grunkle Stan...?" Dipper answers, words forming around the lump in his throat.

And then he's running, three long strides before they close the gap.

Dipper buries his face in Grunkle Stan's chest, hugging him tight, the rusty smell of his aftershave the same as ever.

Like he'd never even left.

"Nice beard, shortstack." Grunkle Stan's husky tone manages. Dipper hears the quaver in his voice.

"Yeah, well, I can say the same for you. You don't look a day over 63." Dipper shoots back. The hat on his head should've been a dead giveaway, if it weren't for the fog.

Grunkle Stan full belly laughs.

"Only 63, huh?"

\--

They make their way through the portal back to the basement and up the stairs.

That's when Bill makes himself known, materializing out of the haze like a bad penny, his one eye shining bright.

"Took you long enough." He sings. "Good thing Pine Tree came to bat-"

Stanley, to his credit, doesn't ask questions.

He sees the way Dipper flinches and looks away, and then Stan looks closer. He notices the bruises and the welts and the condition he is in, grabs the shotgun off the wall, and fires.

"What is he doing here?"

"Oh, give the kid some credit, would you? Otherwise he'd be dead in a ditch with his brains leaking out of his skull."

\--

"Hold your horses, would ya? I just made the lawn flamingo breathe fire and taught bears how to sing. Nothing too conspicuous."

"You said you wouldn't draw attention to-"

"Kid, it's not the apocalypse. It's just a quick, one off bio-engineering hack. A tame home ec project to get my kicks and soothe my chronic under-stimulation. Don't blow this out of proportion. It's not like this stupid hick town hasn't seen weirder."

"That's not the point!"

"Why is it that no one appreciates my creativity? You're supposed to be a trailblazer-"

"How am I supposed to trust you to keep your word when you keep doing things like this-"

"Don't you DARE insult our deal, Pine Tree. Actually, hey, speaking of," Bill clicks and points a finger, "If you want to keep me from being bored out of my mind, why don't you ditch the tone, get down on your knees, and start putting that tongue to good use-"

Before he can finish, Stanley shoots Bill again from the porch.

"Stanley, Stanley, Stan-I-Am, shoot me ONE MORE TIME and I'll rip out Pine Tree's tongue. And then I'll take him here, right in front of you, and make him like it while you watch. GOT IT?"

"Sorry, kid. He just gets under my casings, and I am in no way in the mood for a headache. So... Just do me a favor and cheer up already. We're almost ready for the next expedition."

"Can't wait." The sad thing is, Dipper isn't even lying.

At least when they are jumping dimensions, Bill isn't as focused on him.


	9. Devil Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Mabel.
> 
> Spoilers. Also this is incomplete.
> 
> Chapter title a song by Cavetown.

And that's when Dipper hears a voice he couldn't forget even if he tried.

"Mabel?" Dipper breathes.

She doesn't hear him and keeps humming as she leaps down from a tree branch, sticks tangled in her hair.

Dipper runs after her as she starts skipping away.

"MABEL!"

Mabel turns, looking as carefree and young as she did the day she disappeared.

\--

Dipper's hat falls off as he runs.

Bill catches it.

\--

"Mabel? It's me, Dipper-"

Mabel laughs in his face and points at his beard.

"No, you're not, silly. You're so old-"

Dipper pushes his bangs up, revealing his birthmark.

Mabel's eyes widen and she backs away.

"Mabel, I'm trying to bring you home. Do you remember that?"

Dipper's voice is low, like he's trying to keep a small animal from bolting, but his voice cracks any way.


	10. Devil's Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title a song by the Lab Rats. Spoilers again.

"We were supposed to do this together. Grow up, side by side." Mabel's lip wobbles and then she starts sobbing.

Dipper clutches her hand and squeezes.

"We can start now." Dipper promises, voice low.

And he gathers her into a hug the same time Mabel tucks her head into his shoulder.

"It's going to be fine." Dipper adds.

He'll do whatever he has to make this right.

Mabel wipes her nose on her sleeve and gives him a washed out smile.

She keeps observing Dipper's face like she's trying to find familiar answers. To trace the similarities and the differences and the mysteries there.

(And if Dipper knows Mabel, the next thing she's going to ask is how he should probably help her lose the braces. Having them while in stasis in another dimension for 12 years is also a special kind of hell.)

But they don't get the chance.

Not once the light cuts off from the kitchen and a triangular shadow looms over them.

"Well, isn't this touching?" Bill croons from the doorway.

Dipper shields Mabel on autopilot, reaching to pick her up and move from where they are crouched.

"Don't cry, Shooting Star. It's not a good look on you. And it's not like you won't catch up..." Bill leans on his cane and floats in a circle around their heads.

Dipper tenses, and Mabel's nose scrunches as she stares Bill down.

"What do you mean...?" Mabel accuses, trailing off.

"Bill." Dipper warns. He might not have any leverage over him, but he sure as hell isn't ready to explain the fact that his family might not stay united, anyway.

"Didn't Pine Tree fill you in?"

"Bill!"

"He's not getting any older. Not if I have anything to say about it."

\--

"Pine Tree, never change."

\--

"Yeesh, you're so tense. You'd think I'd have found a way to train that out of you by now... Believe me, if I wanted to torture you, I wouldn't be making it a secret. I'm just trying to make human sustenance that you'll actually appreciate and isn't lethal. You know, whip something up with some supervision-"

"And why would any of us trust your cooking, Bill?" Ford protests.

Mabel cuts in, "Yeah! If anyone is going to make something inedible or deadly, it's you."

Bill rolls his eye.

"Just because I am unfamiliar with human customs does not mean I'm stupid. If I have someone drink bleach or otherwise hurt themselves, I can promise it's on purpose. Anyway. Pine Tree. What would you find you're able to stomach right now? What's... comforting? Or nostalgic or whatever."

"I... I don't know..."

"We can make something for him." Stan interrupts. "We're good at improvising."

Bill gives a withering look, hands on his nonexistent hips.

"Forgive me if I don't take outside suggestions from the family. I've watched all of you, and I know that your standards are not trustworthy or the human norm, considering that this one," Bill points to Mabel, "Is always is always adding glitter, which I know isn't actually edible, and you," Bill points to Stan, "Resort to microwave meals or foods with questionable origins when left unsupervised-"

"Hey, Stancakes are great!" Mabel grumbles.

"Pine Tree needs protein, not something that's going to make him hurl. And don't even get me started on Sixer..."

"I can cook!" Ford protests.

"Buddy, you went a week without food and water once because you got distracted and then passed out in a caffeinated haze. I'd know. I was there. Your taste in cuisine cannot be trusted. As for the that one," Bill points to Soos. "You... I still have no idea what your deal is. But I've seen your takeout habits and you eat something off the ground, so you are also not part of this conversation. So. Anyone who isn't a walking human disaster. They can give ideas. Everyone else, keep your traps shut."


	11. Dance Monkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title a song by Tones and I.
> 
> (still incomplete I prefer to edit after posting)

Dipper shuts himself inside the grimy stall, trying to stop his head from pounding.

"You okay in there?"

No.

"I'm fine-" Dipper says on autopilot, and then his mouth catches up to his brain and the voice registers.

"Pacifica?"

"Should I be offended it took you so long to realize?" She says, sarcasm sharp as a knife. When Dipper says nothing, she adds, "Kidding. You're the only person who could have me stick around in this unsanitary hovel, wrong sign and all."

"Yeah, won't-"

"If anyone walks in I'll just say the queue was too long. But nevermind that, Dipper. Look, you need to talk to someone. Or maybe... I don't know. Maybe you can't. But I'm here. So I'll talk at you if I have to in this stupid joint however long you need. But I don't think the surrounding decor is going to help you with whatever is going on. So if you can come out... Maybe give it a shot?"

She has a point.

(And it's not like anything would deter Bill, anyway. If he wanted he'd materialize and do whatever he wanted, anyway. But subconsciously, Dipper knows why he's here. He feels dirty and broken and used and he doesn't want to be anywhere people would expect him to be.)

Dipper forces the door open, the latch sticking, hunching in on his sweatshirt with his hands in his pockets.

Pacifica loops her arm into his, and leads him out of the bar and down the road.

\--

"Mabel, you aren't selfish. You are a child."

"I'm thirteen." Mabel protests.

"Exactly. And fact is, when you're a child, you're supposed to be selfish. That's how kids are. You're not supposed to have it all figured out. You're supposed to have space to learn and grow and to be allowed to be focused on yourself." Dipper assures. "And whatever you might think about the past, about regrets, about things you could have done differently- I can't change your mind. But in my book, you made up for your mistakes..." Dipper trails off, then sighs. "I'm not sure I did the same, later. But that's what growing up is. Understanding and doing better and you keep on surviving and going and...." Dipper hesitates, then adds, quieter, something raw and low creeping in, "As far as the end of the world is concerned, if anyone is to blame, it's Bill. He tricked you. He tricks everyone. Everything else... You disappearing, all of it- sure, you wanted to work on stuff because you realized you couldn't keep having everything about you. But that wasn't your fault, either. Everyone can be a bit self-absorbed as a kid. Growing up is what helps you move on. And you were always the one trying to keep me from growing up too fast, because you understood that we'd get there either way, and not on our terms. That we should live in the moment and not worry and not fixate on the future. And I didn't appreciate it at the time, but... Let me do the same for you. You don't have to be someone you're not, Mabel. Give yourself room to breathe and take back the time stolen from you. I'm not going anywhere. Okay?"

\--

"Candy and Grenda got married?"

"Yeah."

"And I MISSED it?"

"Yeah."

\--

Candy and Grenda let Mabel plan their vow renewals.

\--

"I saved all your sweaters. And if you want to get started on all the ice cream flavors, I bought one of each from the ice cream place down the road. Had to hurry to stop them from melting, but Stan cleared out the freezer for them."

Mabel hugs Dipper close.

And some part of Dipper feels relief. That, for all the things they've lost, some things remain.


	12. My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title a song from Oliver.
> 
> drafty incomplete dialogue i'm still posting for my benefit

"I want to be the only thing you can think about."

"What?"

"I want you to worship me, Pine Tree. In every single way that is possible for your quaint, undeveloped species. I want to be the thing you think of first when you wake up in the morning. When you're walking down the street. When you tuck yourself in at night and try to keep the nightmares at bay."

"Why?"

"Because I can? Because it's fun to mess with you?"

"Not buying it. You have a lot of other ways to keep yourself entertained. And I'm not that interesting."

"Now that's where you are wrong. We really need to work on that self-esteem of yours. You're selling yourself short, and if you're going to be my pet project, we can't have you avoiding the truth. But I'll elaborate. Get it through your thick skull."

 _Takes one to know one,_ Dipper thinks, mutinously. Bill gives him a once over with his beaming eye, but otherwise lets the rebellion fester without any more punishment.

"Why me, then?"

"Because you're fascinating, Pine Tree."

"Congratulations, you've lost me."

"You tried to trap me, Pine Tree. Me."

"What, like it's hard-"

"That's your problem, right there. You and your family thought you could take me on. And then to add insult to injury, you gave me a run for my money, too. Man, was that a wake up call or what?"

"So? We all did. What's that have to do with m-"

Dipper gulps as a tentacle tightens around his neck.

"I'm getting there, kid. Don't rush me."

Dipper exhales the minute the pressure lessens.

Bill ticks off a few false fingers, darting around. Dipper, however, stays rooted in place, still trussed up, and the eye trained on him doesn't waver once.

"Your sister, now, she's an unfiltered avatar of her reckless id. And sure, she's annoyingly loyal to her family when the chips are down, and far too trigger-happy when it comes to injuring my eye, but when push comes to shove, she just wants to have a good time. I can understand that. Now, Stan, he's an empty headed conman- which, from one fan of deals to another, I can respect. He might not have the chops to take me out, but he knew what his priorities were, and he stuck to his guns and saw the whole plan through and tried his best, however useless and futile they really were. He messes up and gets selfish and then tries to fix the damage the only way he can. And Sixer... Well don't get me started. Dear Fordsy, sure he's got the smarts, but it's mostly all hubris. Can he hold a conversation about convex realities and make a mean portal or two? Sure, yeah, but he's in it for the glory. He wants his name written in the stars. To prove he's the smartest guy in the room. He wants a legacy. But if you ask him to watch the time or man the can opener, half the time he'll get distracted. But you. You, my handsome little Pine Tree. You don't have any of that. Sure, you got a mean right hook and a knack for mysteries and a sense of adventure, like a grab bag of all the others' greatest hits. But what's all you, just you... When I turned Sixer to stone, what did you do?"

Bill waits.

Dipper stops himself from fidgeting, still hyperventilating, spots dancing on the edge of his vision again.

"Wasn't a rhetorical question, kid."

Dipper racks his brains, even if it isn't that difficult. For all the things he's lived through, Weirdmaggedon had left it's mark and never really faded into obscurity.

"I ran out of hiding and yelled at you...?"

"And before that?"

"I followed you and found a way to get Mabel to help me get my body back...?"

"And he's two for two! Want to try for another?"

"I don't know, I... I don't put up with your bullshit?"

"And he hits it out of the park! See, that's what I love about you. You're full of contradictions. You go with the flow, you give up your life and your dreams to save your world and your loved ones. But when it comes to humoring me, you draw your line in the sand. You don't have any special talents per se. You just adapt. You square up and go for it. You had no plan, no way of stopping me. But you'll sell your soul and your body because someone's gotta stop dear Bill from breaking reality without supervision. And sure, way back when you handed me the journals on a platter hoping your faith in your family would give you an out and mean something. But even if they didn't, you defied me anyway. You did it when we first shook hands, and you've done it ever since. Because you want to help a bunch of strangers and the whole wide world by unraveling the mysteries and fighting the things that go bump in the night. Because it's the right thing to do, or whatever. I don't get that. At all. But I like it. I like it a lot. It's refreshing. It's novel. But what's even more interesting is how much you want so many things. You want, and you look, but you never take what you need. And you know I can give it to you, and you say no anyway. All that, put together? It makes me want to pick your squishy mortal brain apart. That's why, Pine Tree. Because you're charming in your own special way. Because out of your entire exhausting, pathetic family, you've got something nobody else has got. A compass that isn't relegated to keeping the family together or saving them from themselves. You just want to do the right thing, which, gee, kid, what the hell does that even mean? But you also want to spite me. And I can appreciate that, and I know you will. And yet, when the chips are down, you swallow your pride and let me in and have my way. And that's nice. It really is. But it's not enough. No, Pine Tree. What I want, more than anything, is for you to beg me for everything I deign to give you, and for you to suffer, and for you to like it, for you to want it, and for you to never want to be anywhere else even as you're cursing my name and begging for mercy. To wrap all around inside you and make you mine in every way. Just because you like spitting in my face so much. That clear things up for you?"

Dipper's struggling increases in double time.

"I'll never-"

"Oh, you will. And we're going to have so much fun along the way!"


	13. Alien Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> incomplete draft that I might delete but it's staying here for now
> 
> Chapter title a song by Oliver Tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some of this is going to be cut because this is my: anything that's weird alien stuff i'm experimenting with and/or unable to take seriously section because I will never find it not funny that Bill is a triangle

"That was you?"

"You really don't catch on quickly, do you? What did you think that was?"

"I thought it was a remnant of... of post-traumatic stress disorder. Or anxiety."

"I mean, you weren't entirely wrong. You were having nightmares. I just spiced them up a little."

"You son-of-a-bitch-"

"Ma was a real card. So was the rest of the family, if I'm being honest. But they sure made up for it by being flammable!"

\--

Dipper isn't sure on the best way to approach this. There isn't exactly a book on "how to negotiate boundaries with your soul-stealing, body-snatching, dangerously smitten extraterrestrial demon rapist," and even if there was, Bill isn't exactly reasonable.

\--

"Why are you so fixated on this?" Dipper's voice gains an edge, and he lets out a choked, hysterical laugh. "Do you even have nerve endings?"

Bill waves a dismissive hand.

"It's equivalent, roughly speaking." Then he leans in, voice lowering, his one eyelid half-lidded and crinkled along the edges. "Why do you think I like feeling you up so much?"

Dipper digests that information in a cocktail of fear and detached resignation before filing it away, trying not to be obvious when attempting to put some extra space between them.

Bill notices, and sighs, before he gathers him on his lap, which wouldn't be much of one if he wasn't twice Dipper's size, so the noodle legs are longer and thicker than usual when Bill makes sure to spread Dipper's legs, one dangling over each side again.

Dipper goes stock-still. Not daring to breath, until Bill's hands stop roaming around his thigh and Bill leans back, one arm wrapped around Dipper's waist to force him to follow suit, and the other one tracing the constellations of an imaginary sky Dipper's brain was so kind to think up.

Dipper remains hyper-aware of every way the plane of Bill's front digs into his shoulders and spine, and tucks his head in automatically when Bill starts massaging a few fingers through his hair.

"Relax, kid. You get so worked up so easily... Then again, I guess you always have. It's a riot, don't get me wrong," Bill murmurs, and then he snorts, "Especially when, by my standards, what we got up to wasn't even second base."

"Somehow, I don't think you are being entirely truthful." Dipper counters. Trying not to focus on the rest of it.

"Hey, we have a lot more bases to go, Pine Tree. Over ten dimensions to play around with. Your human way of doing things is so vanilla it's not even funny."

Dipper debates between academic interest to distract himself and hunching smaller, hoping to avoid giving Bill any openings or ideas.

"What's third base?"

"Usually involves someone being eaten. But it doesn't translate well for your human anatomy, so I figured we'd skip that. I prefer getting you off anyway, having you completely at my mercy and putty in my arms-"

"What's fourth base?" Dipper says as fast as possible, trying not to think about it.

"Proboscis."

"How does that even work?" The words burst out of him, his train of thought completely derailed.

Bill looks at him, eye hooded, as he starts to sits them both up.

"Want me to take you right here and give it a go?"

"No!"

Bill slumps back down again, cradling the back of Dipper's head.

"Shame. Although it's probably for the best. You aren't quite ready for it yet." A hand caresses Dipper's jaw. "You just can't stop yourself from biting, not that I really mind. You have such cute, nubby teeth," And then there's fingers in Dipper's mouth, poking around, until Bill pulls away, "Not that it does either of us much good. Pain is so very limited in this form. That's why I got to rely on you to get my kicks. But we'll work up to the bigger stuff. Baby steps, you know?"

Dipper swallows, mouth dry.

"I'm sorry, what makes you think-"

"Look, kid. If we did things the way they do it in my dimension, there's a very real chance you'd turn inside out," Bill gesticulates wildly, "Being limited to three dimensions and all. Either that or it would just blow your mind and feel very incomprehensible and possibly break your fragile human psyche forever. And I'd rather avoid that entirely and find a nice compromise. That's why I have to draw things out so long, kid. Comes with the territory. Hell, your first time, I was practically spinning in circles, trying to be gentle-"

"You call that gentle?"

"Relatively gentle by comparison, whatever you might think. I wasn't exactly an expert in this area, I was figuring it out as I was doing you. You know? Going slow to get you acclimated..."

"Go back a second, how was any of that gentle?"

"Well, I wasn't actively trying to overtly maim you or rearrange your insides. Just mark you up a little, taste you, draw a little blood. And I did want you to enjoy yourself..." Bill backpedals, expression darkening as his brow furrows, "Up until you pushed my buttons. You are very good at that, Pine Tree..."

Dipper stiffens. Bill keeps drawing circles over his shoulder-blades.

"But I suppose that's something I like about you, sometimes." Bill's tone mellows out again, before he brightens, and Dipper forces himself to exhale. "And it helps you sure are something when you can't walk straight. Or when you scream my name and lose your voice and start choking out those tiny squeaky grunts instead. "

Dipper lets the quiet wash over for a second.

"Has anyone ever told you you are really fucked up?" He finally manages.

"Many times, kid. Many times."

Bill remains unfazed.

"I prefer to think of myself as a visionary and a romantic."

"You would."

"Watch the tone."

Dipper can't stop the bitter sarcasm welling up.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize I'm supposed to sing your goddamn praises twenty-four seven-"

"That is a component of worship, Pine Tree." Bill answers, deceptively mild, and then something else bleeds though, "Would it actually kill you to consider I am trying to seduce you? I mean, sure, I want to break you in, don't get me wrong, but I don't see why your delicate human sensibilities are so bothered-"

"Seduction generally is only possible when actual consent is given."

"But you gave it to me. You handed yourself right on over. Mine, remember?"

"That's not-"

"Hey. Don't act like you didn't sign up for this. You took the deal. No takesy-backsies. And it's not like you aren't on board once I start exploring all up inside you."

"I don't-"

"But you do, Pine Tree. You can't help yourself. You are hardwired to enjoy someone else taking the wheel, and it really is beautiful how much you need me once we get going."

"You manipulated me."

"And? That's what I do, kid. That's always the name of the game. You don't move up or get anything you want in life otherwise. But you don't need to take it so personally, or get so offended. Just because I got you doesn't mean the emotions aren't very real, or that there isn't an us. That's the whole point. We're in this together. But hey, if you can't wipe off that stubborn look on your mug, just consider yourself lucky I want you to be happy, instead of deciding that some other flavor of revenge was more my speed. How's that for perspective?"

There's a beat as Dipper stares at his hands, straining from the grip tightening around him.

"Actually, what am I saying? I don't need you acting all put upon and ungrateful. Come here."

"Bill, wait-"

"Let me think. Yeah. No. I've been the absolute picture of patience with you, and this is how you treat me? You need to remember your place. And it's right here. In my arms, letting me screw you into next Sunday until you can't talk any more."

"See, look how spun out you are already."

\--

"HA! Gotcha."

"You should've seen your face-"

\--

"Have I ever mentioned terrified and horny is a real good look on you?"

"I hate you."

"We'll see how long that lasts."

\--

\--

Bill doesn't feel like a brick wall when Dipper runs his fingers over the grooves on his surface. 

He feels more like a sunbeam, if a sunbeam was solid but with some give like liquid, and also slightly able to electrify you and partially made of tiny rows of microscopic teeth and tongues layered on top of skin.

It always throws Dipper for a loop, and it kind of freaks him out.

"Pine Tree, you aren't exactly making me feel warm and fuzzy. What gives?"

"Look, I know you wanted me to take initiative." Dipper tries appealing to the slim levels of reason Bill possesses, adding, "And I'm cooperating. I'm just struggling to figure out what I'm supposed to be doing here."

"Are you saying you want me to give you directions?"

"This isn't exactly intuitive for me." Dipper tries to stay placating. He can deal with the mouths and the eyes and the other weirdness- that at least had some analogues, or was something his brain could wrap around.

"Now you know how I felt. You think figuring out how your fleshy insides worked without causing irreparable injury was easy?"

Dipper tries not to freeze up at the threat, but it passes.

"Easy, kid. I'm just yanking your chain. Just... keep poking those hands around. You'll get there. But if you want to try some tongue. I certainly won't complain."

Yeah, this is definitely one of the weirdest things Bill has blackmailed him into.

\--

"Is your cane a part of your body?"

"What do you think?"

"No?"

"And what makes you say that?"

"Well, the top hat and the bow tie are. But the cane detaches."

"Very good. We'll make a proper sleuth of my biology yet."

"Why is it a top hat, anyway?"

"A triangle can't be classy?"

"No, I mean, if it's not just a top hat-"

"Kid, don't ask questions you don't want the answer to. You're turning into a real tease."

Dipper drops it after that.


	14. Turn the Lights Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title another song by Tally Hall.
> 
> Spoilers and incomplete.

"You know, you're being awfully chatty today, Pine Tree."

\--

"Keep it up and I might have to rearrange your molecules for a few years."

\--

"You're right. I can't hurt you. Pine Tree was very thorough about that. But nothing said I couldn't ask you to take matters into your own hands. You want me to give Pine Tree a break? How's this sound. You use those creative, destructive brains of yours to start making mayhem and causing yourselves bodily harm, and I'll give him a small vacation."

\--

"Bill, stop! I'll give you what you want, just stop this-"

"There you go again, Pine Tree. Trying to defuse the situation and just diving right now, all plans be damned in the heat of the moment. But that's why I love you. You're smart, and yet still so stupid. But go on. Don't let me stop you-"

"I'll make another deal."

"As tempting as that is, kid, who says I don't already have everything I want from you, hmm?"

"There has to be something else you want."

"Is that a question, or are you brainstorming?"

\--

"That's it. Someone better start groveling, or I'm doing what I should have done twelve years ago. Pitching someone off this water tower has been a long time coming. Doubt it will be nearly as rewarding as rearranging all your bones, but the red tape always gets ya."

\--

"Don't!"


	15. Can't Be Erased

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more incomplete spoilers please ignore this
> 
> Chapter title a song from Bendy and the Ink Machine (the nightcore version has a better tempo imo.)

The entire town of Gravity Falls stands stock silent for a moment, before reaching for every available weapon and screaming and attempting to scatter in every direction.

"Yep, it's good ol' Bill, back for round two! We get it, folks, we've done this song and dance before. And I know you're all ready to pick up your pitchforks and axes and annoying robotic houses. But as much as I appreciate the warm welcome, do me a favor and put a sock in it, would ya? Pine Tree here was kind enough to ensure I spared your pathetic, aggravating lives. So how about you give him a round of applause? Without his meticulously enforced red tape, I'd be happy to set the town on fire again and make the streets run red and watch you pluck your eyeballs out of your skulls and feed them to your children... But enough of that." Bill waves a hand in the air lazily. "Seeing as I am in the need for a new crew, and this hick town is still holding me hostage, this time you get to join the party. Whether you like it or not. So let's talk business. You all could use some, with the tourist industry in shambles..."


	16. Mr. Sandman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title a song by the Chordettes.
> 
> Spoilers and an incomplete draft I am posting for myself.

"Hey, Bill!" Mabel yells. "Stay away from my brother!"

And then she harpoons him directly in the eye.


	17. I Don't Want to Set the World On Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title a song by the Ink Spots.
> 
> incomplete draft again, spoilers.

"Let's go over terms, kid. I can do whatever I want with you, for however long I please. In return, I had to help you retrieve your family, and I can't touch them or anyone in Gravity Falls. Nor can I destroy the earth. And when it comes to the unenlightened parasites covering it... Well, you said to cause no harm. And humanity does a real good job of harming itself. It's crass, undeveloped, a society stuck in it's ways, constantly forcing it's unfortunate subjects into a narrow predestined path and pretending free will is real. Not too different from my old world, really. And while I can't bring my vision global, thanks to you, then I thought, what if I tried some other charitable endeavor? You didn't say anything about trying to help them, after all. So I took most of those unevolved, very stackable fleshpuppets, and brought them together. I mean, maybe if your species all had to get along, they'd finally learn something! You know, like world peace. Or the secret of healthy living-"

"This counts as harm!"

"Not in my book. I think they are much better off this way. I mean, it worked for us. We wore the same skin and I find we get along much better. Whose to say it won't work for your unfortunate species, right?"

\--

"Oh, you really think that washed out Zodiac is going to do anything? Fine. Be my guest."

\--

"Oh, wait. Looks like you're short a person."

Dipper keeps struggling in Bill's grip, a tentacle keeping him gagged.

"Isn't that a shame...?"

Wendy puts on Dipper's hat and takes his spot on the Zodiac, Pacifica ditching her sweater and giving it to ___ to take her place.

\--

"Or not. Well, I guess we're not long for this world..."

And Bill tightens his hold on Dipper, before crawling down his throat, Dipper's eyes glowing yellow.

"I'll see you on the flipside..."

"DIPPER!" Mabel screams.

There's a flash.

And both of them are gone.


	18. Conqueror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't fully know what I'm doing with this part but it doesn't fit anywhere else yet, and it goes after all the other events eventually.
> 
> Chapter title a song by AURORA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also just trying to defeat writer's block to get one of my gravity falls fics rolling, so there should be some edits/updates to his if I can get my brain to cooperate. (And then ideally I'll be working on If You Run, because that's still fighting me even though I've been trying to get that to work with me for days.)

Mabel instinctively tries to pull Dipper towards herself and use the grappling hook, only for muscle memory to fail her.

Dipper is taller and heavier than her, now, and thankfully picks up the slack (and Mabel), pulling them away from the myriad of things hunting them.


End file.
